Glimpses
by delia84
Summary: A piece composed of unrelated one-shots and stand-alones from our favorite Bones characters. Some chapters will pick up from a specific episode or provide a "missing scene" from an episode; others are just something I wanted to write. (These will not go chronologically, but I'll be sure to give an approximate "when this happened" note.) Prompts and feedback are welcomed.
1. Surprise

_A/N: This one takes place two to three years from the current season (season 8)._

_Disclaimer: I don't own Bones._

* * *

"Done yet?"

"I have twenty-seven more seconds before the three minutes."

"Brennan, just look at it." The words had just barely left Angela's mouth when she heard a low groan and particularly dirty curse through the bathroom door. She hid a grin and shook her head, then knocked on the door. "Open up or I'm coming in."

"It's unlocked."

Angela gently swung open the door, revealing a clearly distressed Brennan. "Congrats, Momma."

"I'm already a mother, Angela."

"And you get to be one again." Angela gave her best friend a hug, which Brennan immediately protested. "Oh, come on, Bren. This is wonderful."

"It wasn't planned."

"Neither was Christine. Or Adeline, for that matter."

"Adeline was … expected."

"Christine was definitely a happy 'oops.' And Adeline? 'Expected?' Sweetie, nothing about that kiddo was expected. You two decided you wanted a second baby. She happened a little faster than you anticipated, but hey, can't help that super sperm and fertile Myrtle."

Wrinkling her nose, Brennan frowned. "I don't know what that means."

"Don't worry about it."

"Well, regardless of the circumstances of my daughters' conceptions, I've never planned on three children."

Angela rolled her eyes. "Sweetie, you never planned on _two_ children. Before you and Booth got smart, you occasionally used to talk about having one, but never more than that. And yet look how happy you are with your two girls and Parker."

Brennan groaned. "Really, I'm up to four children."

"Well, yeah, I guess. Parker pretty much is your kid, too."

"Booth's going to kill me."

Angela cocked one eyebrow up. "Seriously? Have you seen the way Booth loves you and loves those kids? He'll be thrilled." She paused as she looked at Brennan's concentrated expression. "What are you doing?"

"Counting." Brennan mused for another minute. "This one and Adeline will be 22 months apart."

"Perfect." Angela gave Brennan a happy smile. "Oh, stop it, Bren. I know that deep down inside, you're happy, too. You're panicking right now because this wasn't part of the plan, but you'll be thrilled soon enough."

"I'm not upset, I'm just …" Brennan struggled to come up with a word, and let out a sigh. "Wonderful. The hormones are already ruining my brain."

Angela laughed as she shook her head. "It caught you off guard. Guess Booth must have pulled a real number on you recently, huh?"

"He got me drunk. I believe he called me 'sloppy drunk.'"

"Drunk? Temperance Brennan doesn't get drunk very easily. What on earth did Booth give you?"

"Tequila."

"Ah." Angela nodded knowingly. "Yeah, that'll do it."

"I was so hung over the next morning, and I …"

"Never have a hangover," Angela finished Brennan's sentence with a smile. "And I'm willing to bet you just skipped that little pill before work that morning."

"I know I did. I didn't eat anything that morning — just grabbed my water bottle and coffee and went to the lab."

"That has to be the day you showed up with a hickey on the back of your neck … and one on your collarbone."

Brennan gave a nonchalant shrug.

"Mmm. You two sure do know how to do things." Angela grinned. "So, when are you telling Booth?"

"Tell me what?"

Completely caught off guard, Angela whirled around, surprised that she hadn't heard Booth's heavy footsteps entering Brennan's office. "Booth! Hi!"

"Hi Angela." He looked from the shocked artist to his startled wife. "Hey Bones."

"Hi Booth."

"What's going on?"

"Nothing," the two women immediately chorused together.

He nodded. "Yeah, that was really convincing and totally believable."

"Um, I'm going to go work on that … uh … that thing. You know, that facial reconstruction thing. With Hodgins. I'll see you two later." Angela moved to step out of the bathroom doorway, but was stopped by Booth grabbing her wrist.

"Not so fast. You two are up to something."

"You'll have to take that up with Bren."

"But you're in on it." He looked at Angela suspiciously. "So for right now, you're staying here."

"I really shouldn't …" Angela's words were interrupted by the sound of a piece of plastic hitting the floor.

"What was that?" Booth glanced around the bathroom, unable to see what had fallen from Brennan's hands, which she had immediately clasped behind her back to hide the pregnancy test when he stepped into her office.

"Booth." Brennan's voice was slightly hesitant, but still firm. "I'll tell you, I promise. Please close your eyes and release Angela."

"What?"

"Please do it."

"Fine." He relinquished his grip on Angela's wrist, and the artist waved quickly to Brennan, giving her a smile and a thumbs-up as she hurried out of Brennan's office.

"Can I open my eyes?"

"Not yet." Brennan picked up the pregnancy test off the floor and turned on the faucet. Holding it under the stream, she quickly rinsed it off and blotted it dry with a paper towel. She held it in her right hand and took Booth's hand with her left, leading him out of the bathroom connected to her office. "Sit, please." She led him toward the couch, making sure the backs of his legs touched seat of the couch.

Without hesitation, he obeyed her instructions. As she dropped his hand, he heard the gentle pad of her ballet flats walking away. "Where are you going?"

"To close the door. Keep your eyes closed."

He sighed and let out a whine, "Bones."

"Be patient." She walked back over and joined him on the couch, taking his hand again. Her hand just the slightest bit unsteady, she took a deep breath before placing the pregnancy test in his open palm. "Open your eyes."

He blinked several times, clearing his vision before staring at the white piece of plastic in his hand with the telltale plus sign.

"Booth? I'm pregnant." She watched as his shock immediately showed, then smiled as she recognized that familiar joyful and goofy smile light up his face. Within seconds, he had her wrapped in his arms, kissing her fiercely as she laughed, her anxiety temporarily forgotten.

"God, Bones … a baby." He dropped the pregnancy test on her couch and cupped her face with both hands, kissing her lips sweetly. "When?"

"Probably mid-September." She hesitated, her anxiousness returning. "Are you really OK with it? I know we weren't planning …"

"Hush." Booth kissed her again, pulling her tightly against him, only breaking away to murmur, "Do I seem OK with it?"

She nodded with a smile. "You responded the exact same way you did when I told you I was pregnant with Christine and then Adeline."

"I did?"

"Yes. Same surprised expression, then that smile. You only give me that kind of smile when I've just told you we're having a baby."

"Is it reassuring? Because you still look pretty shell-shocked, Bones." He gave her a teasing smile. "I promise, I'm happy. A baby's a good thing."

"You're sure?"

"Yes, woman. Geez." He rolled his eyes and kissed her forehead, giving her a reassuring squeeze as he continued their embrace.

"OK." She sighed and laid her head on his chest, finally seeming to relax as he rubbed her back. "I know it's already been determined, but I think I'd like a boy this time."

"Me too. I can't handle another girl giving me that sad puppy face like their mom."

"They got that look from you and you know it."

"No way, Bones. They may have my charm smile, but you've patented that sad puppy look." He paused, another smile coming across his face. "Hey, know what?"

"What?"

"I've finally made an honest woman out of you."

She glanced up at him quizzically.

"Finally knocked up my wife and not my girlfriend." He gave her a cocky grin as she playfully pinched his arm. "This will be the first time that I don't have to confess the conception of this kid to the priest!"

"You'll have to confess getting me sloppy drunk, though. Despite the liberal Catholic standards on drinking, I'm pretty sure our level of drunkenness that night and the activities that transpired violates at least one of your Catholic rules."

"Nah, I already confessed that," he admitted, giving her another affectionate kiss on the forehead. "We're good to go, Bones."

* * *

_Thoughts, comments, and suggestions are welcomed. As always, thanks for reading. _

_Next up: Booth does his taxes __**or**__ an angsty chapter picking up from last week's episode ("The Blood from the Stones") — feel free to cast your vote for one or the other!_


	2. Too Far

_Spoiler alert: If you haven't seen last week's episode ("The Blood From the Stones"), this chapter is a spoiler. I don't reveal the entire plot, but if you want to stay completely spoiler-free, steer clear from this chapter until you watch the episode._

_A/N: I know the episode ends with Booth and Brennan attempting to make their dinner reservation. I thought that scene was cute (not a word I typically like using to describe Booth and Brennan, but oh well), and if I was responsible for the series, I wouldn't cut that scene. However … for the purpose of this story, assume that Hart Hanson's closing scene doesn't happen — this scene replaces it. _

_Disclaimer: I don't own Bones._

* * *

He knew something was off the minute he walked through their front door.

She was sitting at the island, giving every appearance of looking preoccupied with her laptop, paperwork, and books spread across the countertop; however, her distracted gaze at the screen told him she clearly wasn't paying attention to her work. She didn't look up at him, even though she had certainly heard him come inside.

"Hey Bones."

She gave him a curt nod toward the kitchen. "Dinner's in the oven."

"Thanks. Sorry I'm late."

"No need to apologize."

He raised an eyebrow and she raised one back at him. "What? You knew you would be late and you told me in advance."

"Right." He reached into the oven and pulled out a Pyrex dish, gingerly prying off the aluminum foil. "This looks good."

After a few silent minutes of eating while Brennan pretended to work, Booth finally turned to look at her, placing one hand on her knee. "Bones?"

Her eyes flittered across the screen and glanced over at him briefly.

"What's wrong?"

For a moment, she looked like she was going to clam up and not tell him, and he immediately began preparing himself for a long night of convincing her to open up. She pressed her lips tightly together, and then finally looked up at him.

"You went too far today."

He gave her a puzzled look. "When?"

"You know when."

She was right — he absolutely did know when. She wasn't falling for his feigned innocence.

"It's incredible that girl is even alive." Brennan swallowed, pausing for a moment. "You pressed her too hard."

"Bones, we thought she killed a cop."

Brennan shook her head. "No, _you_ thought she killed a cop. And even if she had, that doesn't give you the right to deny her medical treatment."

Surprised, he looked at her incredulously. "Since when did you think she hadn't killed him? You went right along with me on everything!"

"I thought she might have, but I certainly wasn't going along with your method of questioning." Brennan hesitated. "I didn't like who I saw today."

"You mean you didn't like _what_ you saw today," he corrected. "Yeah, neither did I. You think I get a kick out of seeing a girl with her foot blown off? Hell no. You saw me — I was trying not hurl, Bones."

"Booth, I didn't like _who_ I saw today," Brennan repeated. "I didn't like the side of you that I saw today. It wasn't the compassionate, caring …"

He dropped his fork, letting the instrument clatter on the counter. "Seriously? Yeah, compassion and caring are not two of the qualities you typically see when there's a cop killer involved. And you damn well know you don't see me being compassionate or caring during questioning!"

"That's not always true," Brennan rebutted.

"I change my technique and even the questions I ask depending on the case. You know that as well as anyone else who's ever seen me question a suspect. Today was _not_ the time and place for compassion."

"She wasn't even Reuben's killer!" Brennan exclaimed.

"Well, I didn't know that at the time, now did I?" By now, Booth was hot, his eyes darkening as he stared down Brennan. "I did what I had to do. We've both acknowledged that at the time, we had every reason to think it was her."

"We were wrong."

"Doesn't matter …"

Brennan interrupted him. "She was missing a limb. I know you've been through immense pain, but you've never lost a limb. You cannot imagine the amount of pain and stress her system was going through — to question her when she was clearly delirious and under intense shock from pain and blood loss was rash, not to mention foolish. We had no way of really knowing what she told us what true because of the trauma. You let your temper get the better of you."

"Pain and shock? Oh, I've never lost a limb, but I've thought about it! I once begged the guards to cut off my feet — just so the pain would stop and I'd bleed out and die." As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he immediately regretted sharing them, staring at the look of disbelief and horror spreading over Brennan's face. "Bones, I didn't …"

"You've _never _told me that." Her voice was barely above a whisper.

"I've never told anyone."

They both were silent, staring at one another as they processed what to say next. Brennan, clearly caught off guard by the way the conversation had turned, went to refill her wine glass, glancing at Booth as he finished the last few bites on his plate.

"I didn't mean to tell you all that, Bones."

"Obviously." She took a more than healthy sip of wine. "But you did."

"And now you're worried."

She gave him a curt nod.

"I didn't mean it."

Brennan set her wine glass down and hesitantly admitted, "You're not the only one who's wished for the pain to stop." She let out a shaky exhale. "But … unlike you, I have verbalized it to a professional and dealt with it."

He gave her a curious look. "But you've never told me."

Knowing she was on the edge of tears, Brennan took a shaky breath. "That's because it involved you. And someday, perhaps we'll talk about it … but not tonight. Tonight is about what happened today."

"Bones, I …"

She grabbed his hand. "You didn't listen to me today. I tried to stop you from questioning Paula, and you didn't listen to me."

"You don't ever listen to me! Geez, Bones, let's think about how many times you've gone blazing into rooms or done things on your own, resulting in you nearly taking bullets or getting a scalpel through your arm. You really think the whole not listening thing is a valid argument?"

"Seeley, stop it!" Her voice rang out, and Booth immediately fell silent, shocked at Brennan's volume. "Damn it, I _listened_ to you today! I stood behind you the entire time. Did you notice that? I knew which room contained putrefaction, yet I followed and let you take the lead. Rarely do I venture into something on my own now — I realize I have to be more cautious because we have Christine."

"I never asked you to …"

"You didn't have to ask me to do anything today. I did it because I knew it's what you wanted, and I knew it was the safe thing to do. This is your field and you're the one with the gun — isn't that what you always say? — and you go first. You don't always have to use words to tell me, Booth. I'm listening, even when you're not saying anything." She paused, leaning a little bit closer to him. "Did you even hear me today when I asked you to stop?"

He gave her a single nod.

"Why didn't you listen?"

"Because I wanted answers."

"I know you did." Brennan returned to her seat by Booth. "But she didn't have all the answers. And Booth … anything she said could be called into question. She underwent extreme trauma today, and her body was …"

"I know what kind of trauma she went through. Even under mind-searing pain, you can answer questions. I was doing my job."

"This isn't about you or what you've been through." Brennan's voice noticeably shook, and a tear finally escaped from her left eye, sliding down her cheek. "You tortured her, Booth. You withheld pain medication from a girl missing her foot. She had a gangrene wound cauterized with a coat hanger and …"

He stood up from the bar, accidentally knocking over the barstool in his haste. "Torture? Really, Bones? You're going to go there?"

"I don't ever want to see this side of you again." She wiped her eyes, trying valiantly to will her voice to be strong again. "Never. Do you understand?"

Booth took a couple of steps away, and Brennan visibly panicked. "Booth … please. Don't go."

"I am not walking out on you, Bones." He shook his head. "We learned that lesson the hard way. Not happening again. That's not the way to fix things."

"So you agree you went too far today?"

He shrugged. "I did what I thought was best. I didn't want to do it. I was just trying to get answers."

"There are other ways to get answers that don't require someone to suffer."

"What do you want me to do?" Booth raised his hands in a questioning gesture. "I can't take it back."

"I want you to admit you were wrong in doing it." Brennan bit her lip. "I want you to look me in the eyes and tell me you'll never do it again. And I want you to promise me that you'll speak to someone — a professional — about your torture."

"That's a lot to ask, Bones."

She stared at him, unwavering as she crossed her arms across her chest. "Good thing you're willing to do a lot for me."

* * *

_I had a hard time ending this one, and I realized I didn't resolve it with the ending. I've got more (that will likely make it into another chapter at a later date), but man … watching that interrogation scene just got me. I was really shocked that we never got a follow-up where Brennan confronts Booth about what happened. I mean, if you watch the scene where Booth interrogates Paula, there is no way that Brennan just lets him go ... am I right!? Look at her expression and how she tries to stop him! OK, I digress … but if any of y'all want to talk about this episode or especially if you write something about the episode, please shoot me a message. I'm always game for discussion, and I love reading what others write_. _(Also, what are y'alls thoughts on the whole Caroline romance? Yay? Yikes? I'm a fan of Caroline finding love, but I couldn't take that guy seriously.)_

_Thanks for all the kind messages and reviews. Next up: something lighter than this chapter. Maybe Booth will get around to doing those taxes._


	3. Anything But Taxes

_Disclaimer: I don't own Bones._

* * *

"Did you get her to fall asleep?"

"Yes — finally. Maybe she'll nap decently this afternoon." Brennan peered curiously over Booth's shoulder as he intently studied his laptop screen with furrowed brow. "What are you doing?"

"Filing my taxes. Almost done."

"Oh." She gave a knowing nod. "You're getting a hop on them, huh?"

"It's 'getting a jump on them,' Bones. And it's almost the end of March, so I'm not that early." He looked over at her curiously. "Wait — does that mean you haven't filed yours yet?"

She gave a casual shrug. "I've got an appointment with my financial advisor this week. He'll take care of it then."

"Whoa, financial advisor?"

"Yes. You know I have a financial advisor."

"No, I knew you had Stan the accountant."

She rolled her eyes. "Stan the accountant is also my financial advisor."

"Oh." He returned to his work, running his finger over the computer screen as he double-checked his entries. "Hey, want me to file yours?"

"Why would you?" She turned from her position at the coffeemaker. "We're not married, so we can't file together."

"Trust me, I know that. I'm just offering. No sense in you having to pay someone to do your taxes when I'm perfectly capable of doing them." He glanced over at her. "Have you ever filed your own taxes?"

She nodded as she took a sip of her coffee.

"When?"

"During college."

"All four years?"

A bit sheepish, she corrected him. "No, just twice."

"Both times in college?" He waited for her to nod again. "Well, college ones are easy. Rarely do you owe anything, so they're pretty basic. But you've really only filed your taxes twice?"

"Of course not. You're required to file every year, so I've filed every year. After sophomore year, I decided to start paying someone to do them for me."

"Why?"

"Because I find it tedious and irritating."

"So you can stare at bones all day trying to find microscopic fractures and holes, but you can't input numbers or fill out forms?"

"I can, I just choose not to do so."

Booth shook his head with a grin. "Just give me your tax stuff. I'll get it done."

"But I'm meeting with …"

"I know." He leaned over and placed a quick kiss on her lips. "Seriously, let me do this for you."

"But it's quite time consuming."

"Nah." He pointed at his laptop screen. "This took me maybe twenty minutes."

She tried her final rebuttal. "But mine are complicated."

"Won't be a problem," he assured her. "I'm a tax pro. Been doing this for years, and I've done returns for Pops and Jared multiple times. Just go get your stuff."

She shrugged her shoulders as she stood up to retrieve her information. "Suit yourself."

When Brennan returned a few minutes later, Booth was waiting patiently with a smile on his face. "All finished with mine, and got a good return this year!"

"Good. Does that mean you're taking me out for an expensive dinner?" she teased.

"Yeah, I can swing that." He laughed as he reached for the folder she handed him. "Wait, why do you have so many W-2s?"

"I work several jobs."

"Since when?"

"Well, the Jeffersonian, my FBI consulting, teaching at American …"

"There are like twelve W-2s here!" Booth flipped through the papers. "No, wait … make that fourteen W-2s. No way you have fourteen jobs."

"In addition to my jobs, I get one from every research journal that publishes me, and I have one from my book publisher."

"So what you're saying is that I should be complementing you on all your many publishing endeavors this past year."

"I am very accomplished." She set down another folder by Booth's laptop, this one much thicker than the first. "You'll need these as well."

"Huh?"

"We bought a house this year. It's all the property information that's in my name."

"Right. I had to do that part on my return as well. Not a big deal."

"And this," she handed him a bulging notebook, "is the rest."

"What?"

"Stocks, investments, charitable donations, last year's return information …"

"Bones, there is no way in hell I'll need all this."

She looked at him skeptically. "My advisor always needs all of it. Are you sure you know how to do taxes?"

Already, Booth regretted his decision to file Brennan's taxes, but there was no way he was going to admit it or give up so easily. "Yes, I know how. Anything else you got for me?"

"Yes." She walked over to one of the kitchen drawers, opened it, and pulled out another piece of paper. "This is for my car."

"I don't think you can claim much car stuff."

"I have a zero-emissions vehicle. I believe that's worth something."

Booth held back a groan. "Right."

"Oh, and I'll need to get Christine's folder."

"What? She's not even a year old. You have a folder for her?"

"Of course." Brennan rummaged through the drawer. "Her daycare counts as a deduction."

"Really?"

"Well, that's what I remember Stan saying when I asked him about the financial benefits of having a child."

"You didn't …" Booth raked his fingers through his hair and sighed. "You _really_ asked your accountant that question?"

"Yes." She hesitated for a moment. "You're not happy that I asked him that, but I'm unsure why."

"It just uh, it just sounds kind of bad, Bones. Financial benefits aren't why you decide to have a kid."

"Of course not." She shook her head. "I was already five months pregnant when I asked Stan that question."

"Ah. That doesn't make it sound quite so bad anymore." Booth returned to his laptop screen and clicked several times. "OK, here we go."

Again, she looked over at the screen inquisitively. "You file online?"

"Oh yeah, baby. No one does the paper stuff anymore." He raised an eyebrow as he looked at Brennan. "Please tell me Stan does your stuff electronically."

"Yes, of course." She nodded. "What do you use?"

"Personally, I'm an H&R Block man."

"Are they the ones with the bloodhound commercials? I find those very annoying."

"Bloodhounds? Oh … yeah, they are. But their software is easy. And their state filing fees are cheaper than the other guys."

"What about for federal?"

"Federal's free."

"What?" She looked shocked. "You use free software to do something important like taxes?"

He gave her a slow nod. "Everyone does."

"I don't."

"That's because you pay someone to do yours, moneybags." He grinned. "Trust me, Bones. I know what I'm doing."

"Very well." She went to sit in the den and curled up with her coffee and an anthropology journal, counting down the minutes until Booth declared defeat.

Five minutes in, she heard him muttering under his breath.

"Booth?"

"Yeah?"

"Everything all right?"

"Just dandy."

She smiled to herself and took another long sip of coffee. "OK."

It was another ten minutes before he finally groaned and stood up from the counter. "Damn, this is complicated."

"I'm sorry," came her sweet reply from the den.

"No, you're not."

She turned and looked over her shoulder at him, trying so hard not to laugh at him. "You're right. I'm not."

"Bones," he whined as he strode into the den and sat next to her on the couch. "I love you, but we gotta talk. Why do you work all these jobs and why do you have so much money? I'm just not sure we need all of it."

"It's OK to let Stan do my taxes," she assured him with a smile. "He won't mind. He does this every year."

"But I wanted to."

"Until you saw the workload." She leaned to place a kiss on his cheek. "Thank you for trying."

"Not good enough."

"Think of this way — you won't spend all afternoon doing taxes. We can do anything other than my taxes."

He raised an eyebrow. "Anything?"

She nodded, a slow smile coming across her face. "Anything."

"Mmm." He placed one hand on her cheek and kissed her lips slowly. "I got an idea."

"I figured you would."

* * *

_Thought a fluffy piece like this might be necessary after the last angsty chapter. Taxes are boring, but hopefully this chapter didn't end up that way. (H&R Block doesn't pay me to promote them, I promise. I do use their free federal software, but the main reason I use them is because their state fees are cheaper than the other companies — just like Booth says!)_

_Thanks for all the follows, reads, and reviews. It was encouraging to get such detailed, thoughtful feedback on the last chapter. (If you haven't left yours yet, I definitely still welcome it at any time. I need as much help as I can get for the follow-up.)_

_Next up: I want your vote — all you have to say is "Angela" or "Hodgins." That's it! The winner will appear in the next chapter._


	4. Of Poisonous Plants and Shellac Nails

_Thanks to all who voted (and reviewed) in the last chapter. Hodgins won by a landslide. Let me know what you think!_

_If you'd like to imagine that this piece follows up my chapter 3 ("Payback") of "First Week Back," I think it fits pretty nicely. Shout out to TwoBecomeOne, who left me a review on that chapter saying the Jeffersonian team needed to see Booth's back._

_Disclaimer: I don't own Bones._

* * *

"Atta boy, Booth."

Booth glanced over his shoulder. "What?"

"Good night last night, huh?" The agent next to Booth grinned and nodded at another agent in the locker room, who gave a knowing smile as he glanced at Booth.

Another agent walking out the showers let out a low whistle as he passed by, staring at the scores on Booth's bare back. "Damn."

"Your doctor lady got a fierce set on nails on her, and she knows how to use 'em."

"Back off, Rogers."

The agent continued with a grin. "She gets rough."

"You're an asshole, you know that?" Booth reached into the locker for his clean clothes. "You're asking for it."

The agent who had whistled at Booth's wounds earlier laughed. "He's just mad because he's not getting any."

"Shut up, Mitch," Rogers immediately retorted.

"Ah, defensive." Booth grinned. "Guess it's true. That's a crying shame, Rogers, but I don't blame your girlfriend for not wanting to bang your ugly mug. Does she put a bag over your head when she gets in bed with you?"

"That sure as hell ain't true," Rogers shook his head. "I do just fine."

"If you did just fine, you wouldn't have to tell us," Mitch shot back, laughing as he ducked a punch from Rogers.

Still rummaging through his locker, Booth was annoyed with not being able to find a clean undershirt. "Where the hell did I put it …" he thought out loud, and then remembered why it was missing — a certain anthropologist had woken him up at three that morning, insisting she was cold and needed his clean undershirt from his side of the bed. When their alarm had gone off several hours later, he had happily and quickly got rid of said undershirt from said anthropologist's body. Their rendezvous had cost him a few minutes at the gym, but it was way more fun than sweating it out with Rogers and Mitch. _"Worth it,"_ he thought as he reached for his shirt, having to forego the undershirt. As he worked on the buttons, he heard the shrill tone of his phone. "Booth."

"Yo, Dr. Brennan! Nice job turning Booth into a filet!"

"More like ground chuck if we're being honest," Mitch muttered with a sly grin.

Booth glared at both of them, making threatening gestures as he indicated to his gun holstered in his locker. "Can you text me the address?" He paused. "You sure? I don't mind … oh, of course. Hodgins and Cam? Why?" He listened again. "This is going to be fun one, isn't it? You've got that giddy tone." He rolled his eyes and refrained from sighing. "Yep, like I thought … loads of fun. See you in the next hour, Bones."

* * *

Since the investigating team had requested Cam, Brennan, and Hodgins, Brennan had instructed Booth to meet them at the scene, which was a solid half hour away from Booth's office. He arrived minutes after the Jeffersonian team, but could already tell Hodgins and Brennan were hard at work.

"Whadda we got, Cam?"

She shook her head and rolled her eyes. "Beats me if I know."

"Ah, come on. They asked for you for a reason."

"Apparently there's two bodies. The fleshy one is over there." She gestured toward the ditch area where Brennan was kneeling, pointedly giving input to several techs.

"And you're over here why?"

"Eh, Dr. Brennan has this under control."

"The bone one is touching the fleshy one?"

"How'd you know?" Cam asked dryly.

"Crazy guess." Booth shrugged. "You know how protective she gets with her bones."

"Booth!"

"Oh, look, she's spotted you." Cam smiled as she watched Brennan waving to get Booth's attention.

"Damn. I really don't want to go down into that mess."

"Better go see what she wants." She patted him on the back with a grin, noticing as he flinched just slightly. "What's wrong with your back?"

"Nothing."

"You winced." Cam looked at him curiously.

"Just hit the gym a little hard today, that's all." He sighed as he looked down into the ditch.

"Booth?" came Brennan's call again. "Are you coming?"

"Godspeed." Cam gave Booth a thumbs up as he rolled his eyes and started down the path to the ditch. "Let me know when they're ready for me to look at the fleshy one."

* * *

"Hey Bones, you got any Neosporin?"

She pointed in the direction of her office. "Put it on in there and be sure to wash your hands thoroughly. The oil will …"

"Rub off on your bones and mess it up. I know." Booth strode off the platform, scratching his neck viciously as he went in search of the ointment. When he returned a few minutes later, he found Hodgins pointing and loudly proclaiming facts about some sort of special plant.

"This stuff is potent — like make your skin flake off potent. Typically, it grows in tropical areas — it's native to Florida."

"So why was it there?" Brennan mused, studying the computer screen. "And it's more potent than plants like poison sumac?"

"Yes, absolutely. How'd you remove your jumpsuit after the crime scene?"

"According to protocol standards — like I always do." Brennan shrugged. "I'm not itchy."

Hodgins clicked through several photographs from the crime scene, pausing at one of them. "Oh shit."

"What, Hodgins?" Booth was royally annoyed as he watched Hodgins' eyes grow wider and wider as he magnified the picture. "Good news or bad news?"

"Good news … for me. I've never seen a _Campsis radicans_ in this kind of habit, especially along with the _Hippomane mancinella_. This is ground breaking … and a little confusing. I'll have to …"

"What does it mean for us?"

"Um, it means we got exposed to some pretty toxic stuff."

Booth raised an eyebrow. "Toxic?"

"Yeah. We'll need to have the seats in the cars cleaned to clear any traces. And we better take a dose of antihistamines just in case." Hodgins looked over at Booth and glanced around the lab for Cam. "Booth, you and Cam, too. You both were in the general area."

"Huh?" Booth paused in his scratching and froze as Hodgins stared at him. "What?"

"Are you scratching something?"

"Yeah, my neck and back itch like hell."

"Get your shirt off," Hodgins ordered.

"What?"

"Booth, take it off," Brennan requested. "Hodgins is right."

"Uh uh, no way."

"Booth! You weren't wearing the jumpsuits like we were, so you weren't as protected. You must have come in contact with some of the plants, and they're leaching through your shirt. You need to remove it." She looked at Hodgins. "What do you have in the lab for his neck?"

"I can find something … you should get that shirt off, Booth."

Booth groaned as he began to unbutton his shirt. "This the worst Monday in a while, you two."

"Hey man, I warned you about the plants at the scene. It's not my fault you didn't listen. Did you lean up against a tree or something?"

"Probably." Booth nearly had the shirt unbuttoned when Hodgins came over with gloved hands. "Um, what are you doing?"

"Taking it off so you don't spread the poison and spores everywhere."

"I can take off my own shirt, thank you very much."

"Just trying to prevent you from spreading it."

Brennan sighed. "Quit being so stubborn. Hodgins is trying to help you."

"Fine." Booth held out his arms to allow Hodgins to peel off the offending button-down, completely freezing when Hodgins let out a short whistle.

"Dude, you might need a hospital visit."

"No way."

"This stuff has already done a number on your back. I mean, it looks like someone took to you with claws and just had at it …. _ohhhhh_, " Hodgins trailed off, his brain finally registering why most of the redness and all the scratches on Booth's back were there. "I mean … I've never seen anything quite like this before … uh, but I'm sure you're going to be just fine. Yeah."

"Holy shit, Seeley." Cam's heels clicked up the platform and Booth looked over his shoulder to see her staring at his back. "Hodgins, you need to kill off whatever plant did this. It does not need to be in existence for any reason."

"Um … yeah." Hodgins nodded vigorously, desperately trying not to laugh. "I got it under control, Cam. No worries. I'll whip up some cream and his back will be back to normal in no time."

Brennan remained quiet, her lips pressed tightly together as she avoided looking at Booth. "Thank you, Hodgins."

"Not a problem. I'll … uh, let me go get started on something for that itch. You should probably hit the contamination shower."

"He's right," Brennan agreed. "Come on, I'll take you there."

"I know where the contamination shower is, Bones."

"I'll go with you anyway."

Hodgins let out a half snort, half cough as he fled down the platform steps. Looking around for Angela, he headed to take refuge in his office and allow himself to laugh freely without the risk of angering Booth.

"Booth, I'm …"

"Not a word," Booth muttered to Brennan through clenched teeth. "I'm walking half naked through your lab bearing marks from you all over me."

"They all know we have sex. We have a daughter."

"I already got ribbed for this at the gym this morning. Your lab rats seeing me in all my 'Dr. Brennan-has-marked-me-as-her-own' glory is just icing on the cake."

"I'm sorry you're embarrassed."

"I know, but I'm still mad."

"Well, you shouldn't be. I'm quite sure that Hodgins has seen this before — I'm sure Angela has done the same …"

"Uh uh, don't even start. I don't want to think about Hodgins and Angela's sex life."

"I honestly didn't realize I had scratched you quite so hard."

"You're never getting a manicure again."

"Angela says it isn't a manicure — it's shellac."

"I don't care what it is — your nails could tear up a brick wall right now."

"I find that highly unlikely …" She trailed off as she saw Booth's annoyed look. "Right. You were using hyperbole. Where was your undershirt today?"

"If my memory serves me correctly, a certain someone insisted she was cold last night and took my clean undershirt off the chair."

Unable to hide her smile, she replied sweetly, "It's not my fault that you forgot to pack another one."

"Bones, don't get me started."

* * *

_Thoughts for what you want to see next? Got a character you want me to include? Thanks for reading and reviewing._


	5. You're Family

_This was one of the longest weeks in recorded history for me … so I desperately needed to write. I rewatched Stargazer in a Puddle, and couldn't get my mind off what Max tells Brennan when he hands her the ring. This is what the muse came up with — would love to hear what you think._

_Set while Brennan and Christine are on the run — let's say this is during the second month that they're gone._

* * *

"_Your mother's the oldest of three sisters. You want to seek them out — you show them the ring. They'll know who you are and accept you into the family." _

Taking one last glance back at her daughter sleeping soundly in the car seat, Brennan cautiously opened her door. She held one hand to the small of her back as she slid out of the driver's seat, clicked the lock button on the door, and pushed it closed, watching to make sure the noise didn't wake Christine. She slipped the car key into her pocket and headed up the walkway to the front porch of a house. Upon climbing the steps and approaching the door, she knocked, rang the doorbell, and waited silently.

Nearly a minute passed before Brennan heard the telltale click of a lock turning, and then the door gradually opened, revealing a man, who — if Brennan had to guess — appeared to be in his late fifties.

"Can I help you?"

"I'm here to see Julia."

The man gave Brennan a curious look. "I'm sorry, do we know you?"

"Please, it's important."

From somewhere in the house came a faint, "Honey? Who is it?"

For a split second, Brennan could have sworn she had a flashback to a faint childhood memory — something involving a beach vacation, a picnic, and a kite — and the owner of that voice had been there.

"Um, there's someone's asking for you," the man glanced over his shoulder to answer the voice. "But I don't know her."

"Let me see." Allowing the man to step aside, a woman appeared in the doorway, studying Brennan quizzically. "Are you the pet sitter Alexa recommended? We don't need anyone until next week … I'm sorry if there was a misunderstanding."

"No." Brennan shook her head, fumbling as her fingers dug underneath her sweatshirt for the chain she wore around her neck. "I'm …" Her lips faltered, and she let the ring hanging from her necklace speak for itself.

"Where did you get that?"

"Can you help me?"

"Oh my God ... you're Temperance." The woman's hand flew to her mouth, revealing a matching ring on her hand, and she turned to her husband. "This is Ruth … Christine's daughter."

"The one on the run from the FBI?"

"Please, I can explain." Brennan fingered the ring nervously. "I had to come — we had to leave our safe house earlier than expected, and I had nowhere else to go."

"We?"

Brennan nodded. "My daughter's asleep in the car."

"You need to hide that car." The woman's firm tone was decisive and urgent. "And you need to get inside. Bring your daughter in and give Paul your car key."

* * *

"Thank you." Brennan graciously accepted the cup of hot tea from Julia, who sat down on the couch next to her.

"What's her name?" Julia indicated to the sleeping baby in Brennan's arms.

"Christine."

"Your mother would be thrilled." Julia smiled as she looked at Christine. "She's beautiful."

"Thanks." Brennan hesitated. "Did Max contact you?"

"No, we haven't been in contact with him in two years. I've watched the news — we've kept up with the case." She paused. "Where is Max?"

"I don't know. That's why I'm here. He wrote down your address and told me if he ever didn't make it back on time, I had to head straight here."

"Where did you drive from?"

"I'd rather not say."

Julia nodded understandingly. "That's fine. Did he give you Marie's address, or just mine?"

"Just yours." Brennan sipped the tea. "Thank you for taking us in."

"What kind of person would I be if I turned away my own sister's daughter?"

"But … you're harboring a wanted fugitive."

"A wanted fugitive who's illegally packing heat." Julia raised an eyebrow at Brennan's surprised expression. "Uh uh, don't give me that innocent look. You're part Keenan — you've got a pistol in the small of your back."

"It's only for self defense."

"Damn right. Don't worry, I'm not taking it away from you." Julia gazed at Christine, who was still blissfully asleep. "How long do you two need?"

"I don't know. I'd like to wait around for a day or so to see if Max meets us here, but I can't stay long … I can't risk being caught here or putting you and your husband in danger."

Julia shook her head. "Don't worry about us. You stay as long as you need."

"Really?" Brennan turned to look at Julia incredulously. "But …"

"Sweetheart, you're my big sister's only daughter. The last time I saw you …" Julia stopped, her eyes closing for a second. "Do you even remember the last time I saw you?"

"Was it at the beach?"

Julia nodded, taking a sip of her tea before she continued. "You were eight years old and I was helping you fly a kite at Myrtle Beach." Her voice trembled. "I'm not letting you out of my sight again, especially not with someone out there wanting to hurt you and your little one."

"But you don't even know if I'm innocent."

"You are."

"You don't know that."

"Temperance, you are innocent, but even if you weren't, you're family. I know you may still have a twisted view of what that means, and I know you've had a real number played on you when it comes to trusting family, but I mean this — Paul and I are here for you. Whatever you need, and however long you need to stay here — we are here for you and Christine. Do you understand?"

Tears prickling her eyes, Brennan could barely nod.

"I want you promise you'll trust us and promise you'll stay for at least 48 hours. And I want a verbal, respectful 'Yes, Aunt Julia' from you, not just a nod." Julia gave her a grin.

"Yes, Aunt Julia."

"Good. It's settled." Julia leaned over and pressed a kiss to Brennan's temple. "Now, as soon as Paul gets back from getting rid of that car, I want you to go to bed and get some rest. We've got a lot of catching up to do in the morning."

* * *

_Thanks for reading and reviewing (and for the suggestions). Sorry for the delay in updating. This week was absolutely nuts._

_Completely unrelated: I found out the Boston bombers' ethnicity while driving to a job interview on Tuesday morning. The bombing is nothing to laugh about, but seriously, every time the radio DJ said, "Chechnya," all I could think about were David Boreanaz's multiple failed attempts to pronounce "Chechnya" during the season 6 bloopers (and Emily sweetly correcting him off camera). Anyone else, or was that just me …_


	6. It's Good News

_I needed something a little sweet, so this is what happened. And I've also promised some Angela to a few of y'all, so here we go. _

_This is set two to three years after current season. I realize someone else has probably done something similar, but I haven't read anything quite like it. (If you've written something, shoot me a link to your work!)_

_Disclaimer: I don't own Bones._

* * *

"I'm telling you, this kind of larvae would only be present after a minimum of four days. If I'm being realistic, it's much closer to a week. They're only attracted to decomposition — no way would these guys show up on a two or three-day dead body. He's been dead at least four days."

"And I'm telling you that the lack of tissue decomp clearly indicates this man has been dead for less than three days."

Hodgins shrugged at Cam. "I don't know what else to you tell you. The bugs don't lie."

"And neither does tissue decomposition."

"There are factors which can slow it."

"And there are factors which can make those bugs show up and screw things up," Cam shot back, glaring at Hodgins from across the table.

"Dr. B?" Hodgins looked over at Brennan. "Come on, you've got to have some thoughts on this."

She nodded.

"So? Whose side are you on?"

"I'm going to need to examine the bones. That is my area of expertise. You two have considered yours — it's time for me to consider mine."

"But we haven't concluded anything," Hodgins protested.

"Oh, you've both certainly concluded things," Brennan corrected. "You just haven't come to the same conclusion about the time of death."

"Disagreeing over the time of death is kind of a big deal," Cam reminded.

"Yes, which is precisely why I should look at the bones and come to my own conclusion."

Hodgins groaned. "But what if you come up with another time of death? Then that just means we have three different sets of data to argue over instead of two."

"Let's hope that my examination of the bones either reconciles both your views or completely dismisses one of your views, leaving us with the correct time of death." Brennan glanced from Hodgins to Cam. "What? It's not like this never happens here. We disagree all the time. Why do you both look so annoyed?"

"Yeah, but …" Suddenly, Hodgins was rudely interrupted by a piercing shriek resounding throughout the lab.

Visibly startled, Cam nearly dropped her dissecting knife. "I swear, if that's Daisy …"

Brennan shook her head. "No, Miss Wick is running an errand for me in the antiquities department."

"I don't know … she manages to break the sound barrier on a regular basis," Cam muttered as she glanced around the area, looking for the source of the noise.

The shriek came again, and Hodgins bolted from the platform in the direction of his wife's office. "Angie!"

Cam immediately fell behind Brennan as the two women left the platform to follow Hodgins, who had already reached Angela's office. They stepped in, clearly confused at the sight before them.

"Is she laughing or crying?" Brennan whispered to Cam.

"Both?" Cam looked unsure, watching in confusion as Angela buried her face into Hodgins' chest, clearly crying.

"Angie, calm down," Hodgins soothed, running both hands over his wife's back as she clung to him. "You said it's good news …"

Still buried in his chest, Angela nodded her head vigorously, trying to get words out through her tears. "P-p-paper-w-work."

"Paperwork? Babe, you're going to have to be more specific."

Angela sniffled, and tried to wipe her nose with one hand. "E-e-email …"

"Ang, it's OK if you can't tell me, but can you show me?"

She nodded again, and proceeded to reach for her tablet, still sniffling and letting tears run down her face as she swiped her fingers across the screen. "T-t-there." She pointed to the large screen, which lit up with her inbox, revealing over a dozen emails.

"OK." Hodgins scanned the contents. "I'm not sure what I'm looking for."

"Wait." Angela's fingers swiped again across the tablet, opening the email at the top of the page. She set down the tablet and returned to embrace Hodgins, still sniffling and hiccupping into his shirt as his eyes raced across the screen.

"Oh my God." Hodgins was speechless for a few seconds, staring at the image on the screen. "Is this her?"

Angela nodded, breaking into sobs again as Hodgins pressed a fervent kiss to her forehead.

"Angie … God …" Hodgins's voice was quiet, and he suddenly looked like he was fighting back tears of his own.

Through her tears, Angela managed to notice Cam and Brennan, still cautiously standing in the doorway. She motioned for them to come over, and immediately let go of Hodgins to hug Brennan.

"Dr. Hodgins, is everything all right?" Cam asked.

Angela began to laugh, still sniffling as she released Brennan from a tight embrace. "Yes, yes … everything's is f-fine!"

"I don't understand," Cam began, looking over at Brennan to see if she had any clarity on the situation.

"I'd like for you to meet our daughter." Hodgins nodded to the image on the screen. "This is the first time we've seen her."

Cam went silent, her mouth forming a silent "oh" as she stared at the screen.

Brennan immediately reached to hug her best friend again. "Oh Angela, she's beautiful."

"I know!" Angela wiped her eyes, still half laughing, half crying. "I'm sorry for screaming. I just wasn't expecting a photo so soon. We just got our credentials and acceptance letter last week, and they said it'd be a while before we heard about a placement."

"Hey, I want in on this." Cam quickly walked over to Angela, smiling as she gave the artist a hug. "All is forgiven — this is a perfectly acceptable reason to scream."

Angela laughed. "Thank you."

Hodgins was quiet, reading over the few sentences on the screen. "So this is all we've got?"

"Honey, we weren't expecting a photo for at least another two months," Angela reminded.

"I know." He sighed. "But now that we've got a picture, I just want to know more about her."

"Well," Angela paused, studying the screen. "I'd say she's three months old in that photo. Bren, do you agree?"

Brennan nodded. "Possibly four months if she falls into the smaller weight percentile, but I would estimate three. Cam?"

"I concur, based on my limited pediatric knowledge. Three months seems accurate."

"OK, so she's about three months and she's in South Korea." Hodgins sighed. "Come on. This room is the brain trust of North America right here … what else have you three got for me?"

"We know her name, too." Angela frowned, her brow furrowing as she tried to figure out the name before saying it out loud. "Well, we _have_ her name … knowing how to pronounce it is a whole different story."

"Dr. B?" Hodgins looked to Brennan, who was carefully examining the scant text on the screen. "Know any Korean?"

"A little." She pointed at the first portion of the Korean name written in English letters. "In English, her first name is Gyeong-ae."

"Gyeong-ae," Angela repeated. "That's actually not too difficult."

"It's very pretty," Brennan commented. "And her family name, Yeong, isn't terribly common."

"Gyeong-ae Yeong?" Hodgins repeated as he walked toward Angela's computer. "That's her name?"

"That's how you would say it in English, yes. Koreans put their family name first." Brennan pointed to the Korean characters under the English letters on the email. "See? This first one is Yeong, and the following ones are Gyeong-ae."

"When you said her name was pretty — do you know what it means?" Angela wondered.

"I understand part of it," Brennan explained. "'Yeong' means 'brave,' and 'ae' means 'love.' I'm not sure about 'Gyeong.'"

"Well, you're already off to a good start with those two meanings," Cam remarked with a smile. "But aren't you changing her name?"

"Oh yeah." Angela nodded. "That's a given."

"Respect!" Hodgins announced proudly, looking up from the computer. "That part we didn't know means 'respect.'"

"I can't wait to hold her." Angela had resumed her staring at the screen. "I wonder how quickly we'll get to meet her." She glanced over at Brennan with a smile. "You know we're naming her after you, right?"

"What?"

"Oh, don't look so surprised, sweetie. I told you this years ago, before I was ever with Hodgins."

"You're really going to give your child my name?"

"Absolutely. She may be Gyeong-ae, right now, but once she's stateside, she's Katherine Temperance Hodgins."

Brennan let out a short laugh. "People will be second guessing and questioning her middle name for the rest of her life."

"And she won't mind a bit. Not after she meets who she's named after."

Brennan rolled her eyes at Angela's complement. "She might dislike it for a few years."

Hodgins shook his head. "Nah."

"Remind me how much your wife likes her middle name?" Brennan asked playfully.

"Don't you dare say it," Angela warned.

"And on that note, Dr. Brennan and I are going to head back up to the platform." Cam gave Hodgins a quick hug. "Take all the time you need. Congrats to both of you."

"You know," Hodgins mused as the two women left Angela's office, "Michael Vincent has three names. Perhaps we need to be fair and do the same with Katherine."

Angela groaned. "Oh no. It took us forever to decide on those names, and we swore we wouldn't change them!"

"Well, we've got a little while."

"You know my dad is going to insist on a name."

"As long as it isn't 'Mamba,' we'll be OK."

Angela raised an eyebrow and leaned to kiss his cheek. "You underestimate my father's creativity …"

* * *

_So, I have an angsty chapter that would work as a follow-up to this one. Who wants to see it?_

_Shout out to my friend Gyeong-ae for letting me use her name. If I've got any native Koreans reading, I apologize if I messed up anything. I only know a little bit thanks to a short study program in Seoul and Daegu._

_I'm not going to give any spoilers, but HOLY CRAP, LAST NIGHT'S EPISODE. I can't decide who wins the gold star award for performance. Cam's beautiful, helpless plea made me tear up (and I do not cry), the dedication and teamwork that Brennan and Hodgins exhibit was right on par, the always-protective Booth, the almost-psycho Brennan moment, the harkening back to Fox's "24" with this episode — kudos to the cast, crew, and writers. What did y'all think? Who gets the gold star? (Or did you totally hate it? Dialogue is welcome — you definitely don't have to agree with me.)_


	7. Nightmare

_This one is just a little something inspired by the finale coming up on Monday. Not any real spoilers, but if you haven't seen the preview for the finale (and are trying to stay 100% spoiler free), you should probably pass on this one for right now._

_Disclaimer: I don't own Bones._

* * *

Brennan woke to soothing touch of Booth's hand gently running up and down her arm. Her chest heaving, she swallowed and tried to inhale and exhale slowly to calm herself.

"You awake?" came Booth's gentle question, as he pressed a kiss to her shoulder.

"Yeah." She sighed and turned over to face him, viewing his concerned expression. "Did I wake you?"

He nodded.

"How?"

Placing a kiss on her forehead, he murmured, "Don't worry about it."

"What did you hear?" She wasn't letting this go just yet. "What did I say out loud?"

"You said my name a couple of times. It sounded like you were looking for me." He hesitated briefly as he resumed stroking her arm reassuringly. "You want to talk about it?"

"I said his name too, didn't I?"

"Yeah." He brushed away the single tear that had escaped one of her eyes, and lay back down on the mattress as Brennan put her head on his chest.

"I hate this."

"Me too." As she stayed still and quiet, Booth ran his hand up and down her back, gently stroking her. "I hate that we can't even rest without thinking of that bastard. I hate that he's robbing you of precious sleep and keeping your brain going at all hours." He kissed the pulse point on her neck, feeling the steady beat through her skin. "Baby, your heart's racing."

"I know." She took a deep breath. "The dream was frightening."

He nodded, feeling her tuck her head under his chin. "I can tell."

"I couldn't find you," she began. "You were out in a wooded area, and your backup had lost sight of you. I came to the scene and I couldn't find you."

"Did you know the woods?"

She shook her head. "No. They seemed completely unfamiliar." She looked up at him. "Promise me when you go out tomorrow that you won't leave your backup?"

"I promise." He kissed the top of her head. "And I'll find you — I'll come straight back to the lab for you. I'm not going anywhere."

"Do …" Brennan hesitated, biting her lip for a moment. "Do you believe dreams mean something?"

"Well, I know what you believe about dreams," Booth countered. "You believe they're just a succession of images and ideas that happen involuntarily while you sleep. It's just the brain trying to process things it's seen or thought throughout the day."

"But do you believe they can mean something?"

Using his index finger, Booth tilted Brennan's chin up so that they were looking at one another. "Why are you asking? What'd you see that's bothering you? Pelant?"

She shook her head. "I never saw him — I just knew you were looking for him and he was going after you."

"Was it that I was dead?"

"No."

"Were you afraid that I was going to be dead?"

"Maybe."

"Bones, I'm really not good at the guessing game, especially this late at night." He stroked her cheek reassuringly. "What did you see that you want explained?"

"Not what, it's who," she whispered.

He raised an eyebrow. "Your mom?"

"No." She let out a shuttering breath. "Vincent."

"You saw Vincent in your dream?"

She nodded.

"The scene at the lab?" Booth's thoughts immediately drifted back to that fateful day, knowing full well that he and Brennan both had nightmares about it for months. During their first two months sleeping together, they had taken turns waking up to calm the one who had the nightmare, reassuring each other that they were both still alive and together.

"No." She looked straight into Booth's eyes, willing herself not to tear up again. "He told me I had to protect you. He said he liked you, but that he didn't want you to come visit him yet."

Immediately, both of Booth's arms wrapped around Brennan in a tight embrace. Crushing her into his chest, he kissed her lips. "Bones, listen to me. I'm not going anywhere — not to see Vincent, not to leave you and Christine, not anywhere alone by myself without backup — I'm not leaving. Do you hear me?"

She nodded, sniffling into his shirt. "It's foolish."

"It's not foolish."

"I don't even believe in heaven, and neither did Vincent. Why would he be saying that he doesn't want you to visit yet? There's no place for you to visit him."

"Your brain is just trying to process fear."

Letting out a bitter laugh, she said, "Look at you trying to be the scientific one."

"You know it's true." Booth kissed Brennan's lips again. "Listen to me. I'm not leaving. We're going to get him. You know this. Now, do you think you can sleep? We both need to rest."

"No." She wiped her eyes. "But I'd like to just lay here."

"Me too." He ran his fingers through her hair as her hand lazily caressed his chest. "You're safe. So is Christine."

"I know." She sighed, closing her eyes. "I'm sorry I woke you."

"Don't be. I'm sure it'll probably be my turn next week." The two were quiet for a few minutes until Booth finally leaned up and placed a kiss on Brennan's cheek. "I love you." He paused for a brief second. "Bones, I don't know what tomorrow will bring, but I promise you — I'll be safe. I love you."

Content with his declaration, Brennan settled back into Booth's arms, nestling her head back onto his chest as she pressed a kiss to his throat. "I love you, too."

* * *

_Thanks to all who are reading and reviewing. It's been a little quiet around here — everyone on pins and needles ready for Monday?_


	8. Going to Get Him

_Big spoiler for last night's finale (not the "big" one, but still — please don't read if you haven't seen the episode). You've been warned._

_Anyone else notice that Angela was still on the line (well, the computer screen) when Booth and Sweets talked about how they thought it was Pelant? Do you really think Angela went silent when she heard Pelant's name (and stayed silent that whole time)? Yeah, me neither … so this is a take on what we might have missed._

_Disclaimer: I don't own Bones._

* * *

A twinge of sadness went through Angela as she scanned the search results from her facial reconstruction. _"Booth's not going to like this,"_ she thought, sighing as she reached to call him from her computer to regretfully give him the bad news. _"Never a good thing, but always worse when it's one of his own. But maybe he didn't know the guy."_

As fate would have it, Angela had no such luck.

"Hey, I got a hit off my facial reconstruction from the FBI database," she announced as she beamed the files to Booth's screen. She continued talking and nearly missed Booth's changed expression, which revealed that he did indeed know the victim. "Turns out he's a retired …"

"Yeah, I know." Booth's tone immediately caused Angela to stop and look up from her tablet. "That's Alan Friedlander."

"You knew him?" The second the words left her mouth, Angela knew it was a dumb question — Booth's distressed expression and solemn tone clearly indicated that he knew the victim — but she couldn't help hoping she was wrong.

"Yeah, Alan and I, were, uh …" Booth paused for a brief second, still processing the unexpected news, before he continued, "… we were partners, when I first started out."

"When was the last time you saw him?" Unable to see him from the computer angle, Angela only heard the question from Sweets in the background.

"At his retirement party. All right, you know what, Alan was a good man. Pelant doesn't do something like this and get away with it." Booth's stern gaze returned to the computer screen, his eyes racing over the information from Angela.

As Booth spoke his threat against Pelant, both Booth and Sweets were too preoccupied to notice Angela's subtle gasp at the name. After Booth went quiet, Angela watched his eyes jump around the screen, studying the information she had given him. Without telling him goodbye or acknowledging what she had heard, she hit the disconnect button, her eyes filling with tears.

"No, no, no," she whispered, stubbornly wiping at her eyes. "Not now. Not again."

"Hey Ang, I …" Hodgins walked through the doors of her office and came to a halt, immediately recognizing that something was wrong. "Angie, what's up?"

Her lower lip quivered and she merely shook her head sorrowfully.

"Angela." Immediately, Hodgins strode over, wrapping his arms around his wife as she began to cry. "Baby, you're scaring me. Is Michael Vincent OK?"

"I don't know!" Angela was quickly approaching the point of hysteria.

"Did you get a phone call from the daycare? What's wrong? I know you're upset, but you've got to tell me what's wrong."

"N-n-no. N-not d-d-day-c-care."

"So Michael Vincent is OK?" Hodgins felt Angela nod into his chest. "OK, baby. Shhh. Tell me what happened."

Angela wept into his shirt bitterly and barely managed to spit out the dreaded name, "P-Pelant." She felt Hodgins' grip on her tighten, then he pulled away from her and cupped her face firmly in his hands.

"Angela, look at me," he ordered, forcing her to look into his eyes. "What did you say?"

"B-B-B-Booth," Angela continued to stutter through her tears. "He s-said P-P-Pelant-t!"

"He thinks Pelant's back?"

Tearfully, Angela nodded.

Letting his hands fall from Angela's cheeks, Hodgins wrapped his arms back around his wife as she resumed her crying. He held her for several minutes, gently rubbing her back and pressing periodic kisses to her hair as she clung to him.

"S-s-sorry," she sniffled, finally pulling away from him a bit to look up. "I'm s-s-sorry."

"Don't apologize." He kissed her lips, still salty and wet with her fresh tears. "Hell, you reacted exactly like we all want to react when we hear his name."

"Sorry to s-scare you," she whispered, still clinging to his shirt.

"It's OK," he assured her.

Angela let out a shaky exhale and wiped her eyes. "What do we do now?"

"We catch that son of a bitch."

"How?"

Before Hodgins could respond, Angela's screen lit up with an incoming call notification. Reflexively, she hit the answer button, and Booth reappeared on the screen.

"Angela, I'm sorry …"

"We weren't thinking." Sweets interrupted, appeared in the frame behind Booth. "We were talking about Pelant before you called and …"

As he saw Angela's tearstained face and smeared mascara, Booth's face fell. He quickly cut off Sweets, "Angela, I clearly upset you. I'm so sorry. It was thoughtless of me. I gave you no warning and launched right into the Pelant thing."

"No." Angela sighed and wiped one eye. "You're right — I'm upset, but I'm glad you told me."

"Was Bones around when I said anything?"

Angela shook her head. "She doesn't know."

"Hey, Hodgins." Booth gave an understanding nod to the scientist as he kept one arm protectively around Angela. "Guess you've heard the news."

"Yeah." Hodgins swallowed. "We'll get him. Tell me what you need us to do and we'll do it."

"I know, and thanks. He doesn't stand a chance against the brain trust."

"Damn right."

"Hey, do me a favor … stay in your office and keep it quiet until I can catch Bones and tell her myself, OK?"

"Of course."

"Angela? Dr. Hodgins?" Cam's voice came through the doorway as she announced her presence, then glanced at the computer monitor. "Oh, Booth. Hi."

"Hey Cam."

"Angela, Dr. Brennan found a piece that she thinks might be helpful for the skull reconstruction."

"Oh, no need … I already got a hit."

Cam looked from a still-tearful Angela to a clearly angry Hodgins, and then at Booth's somber countenance. "I'm obviously missing something. Tell me."

Booth sighed. "Go get Bones and any of the interns there. We'll just talk this out like one big family."

"Now?"

"Yeah, now."

Cam turned and exited, and the room stayed silent until Booth saw both Cam and Brennan appear by Hodgins and Angela.

Giving no introduction, Booth cut straight to the chase. "We think Pelant's back. And now Sweets is going to tell you why."

As the group listened to Sweets explain his doctoral paper, the general ideas and causes behind pathological narcissism, and the other theories and specific examples in his particular written work, Brennan found herself numbly staring straight at Booth, almost appearing as if she wasn't listening to Sweets. But when Sweets finally finished speaking, Brennan was the first to break the silence, giving a brief nod as she said, "I'd very much appreciate it if I could read your work."

"Of course. I'll send it right away."

Brennan directed her next question to Booth. "What do we do?"

"You keep working." Even through the distance and impersonality of the computer screens, Booth could see the fear in Brennan's eyes, and he found himself unable to think about anything other than getting there as fast as he could to wrap his arms around her. "And I'm on my way."

At his words, Brennan's shoulders relaxed ever so slightly, signaling the relief of tension, and the furrow between her eyebrows lightened. She gave a brief tight-lipped but thankful smile and a quick nod. "OK."

"He's not getting away with this," Booth reiterated to the four pairs of eyes silently staring at him through the computer monitor. "We're going to get him."

* * *

_OK, I dislike the ending, but it's all I could think of … plus I can kind of see it happening that way. _

_Anyway, with this story, I like mixing up the order of things with every chapter; however, would y'all be OK/forgive me if I did a couple of missing pieces from last night's episode back to back? Would love some feedback. (Even a simple yes or no is fine!) I've got a couple ideas and want to crank them out while they're fresh. I'm sure others are writing, but I haven't read anything yet._

_Oh that finale … gut wrenching. Kudos to the writers. Pelant, you're officially worse than the Gravedigger. (__And side note: If anyone wants to talk about the episode/shoot me ideas/vent about things, just send me a message or leave it in the review. I'm always up for talking.) Thanks for reading._


	9. Twister

_In the last chapter, I said I was working on several scenes from the finale. I'm still doing that, but they still need work. Instead of posting something rough, I'm posting this … and it's light and fluffy. (We probably need it!) _

_Let's have this one set before that finale … no angst, just some good Brennan and Angela time at the Jeffersonian. It's a short one, but hey, that's better than nothing, right?_

_Disclaimer: I don't own Bones._

* * *

"Oooh, look! Twister!" Angela pointing excitedly at the screen in her office, grinning as she bounced up and down, her eyes dancing at the back portion of the image. She and Brennan were looking for a suspect in their most recent case, pouring over photos from a recent party where the suspect was one of the guests.

"What?"

"Twister! You know — one of the best games ever!" Angela's excited tone and happy grin disappeared when she saw the blank look on her best friend's face. "Sweetie, seriously?"

"What?"

"I can tell you've obviously never played Twister, and that just hurts my heart."

"Angela, unless this game played a factor in the murder, or helped get our suspect intoxicated to reach the point of a DUI, I really don't want to hear about it."

"I was afraid you'd say that." Angela sighed and shook her head. "While I think Twister would be really entertaining and simultaneously stupid to play while drunk, I doubt it contributed to our victim's death. Plus," she clicked through to the next few images, "based on their superb coordination, it doesn't look like anyone is drunk. Yet."

"She is." Brennan pointed to a woman off to the right of the image.

"I meant no one playing Twister with our suspect Sid is drunk." Angela indicated back at the Twister area. "Sid is the caller, but I don't see any photos of him playing the game."

"The caller?"

"He spins the wheel and calls out the moves to the players."

"So he wasn't playing," Brennan assumed.

"Correct. That's a shame ... I really thought he might have played and had that factor into things. But hey, maybe that's why he got drunk," Angela mused out loud. "No one wants to be the caller."

"How does one get to be the caller?"

"Well, if you play it like we did in elementary school, whoever falls first has to be the caller until someone else falls."

"Falls?"

"Geez, I should have just explained the game to you at the beginning." Angela shook her head. "Never mind. Just know that the loser is the caller."

"So Sid might have lost a round."

"Yes …"

"Would he get drunk and kill someone?"

"Over a game of Twister? That'd be one hell of an anger management issue."

"Games and competition bring out …"

Sensing an anthropology lecture, Angela quickly cut off Brennan. "How about you ask Booth if he thinks losing Twister could make someone snap and kill another person? I seriously doubt it, but this is his area of expertise anyway."

"Twister is his expertise?"

"No, motives and all that stuff." Angela let a slow smile cross her face. "Now that's an image."

"What is?"

"Booth playing Twister."

* * *

_How many of you would like to see Booth teach Brennan how to play Twister? Leave me a review … it just might happen. :) _

_Dear readers, I apologize — in 48 hours, I'm headed out of town for work for two weeks, and my Internet access will be limited. I will do my best to post something, but I can't promise it will happen._

_Also, for those of you who requested I write something "fixing" the last three minutes of the finale ... I haven't been particularly inspired to do just that. I'd recommend you check out chapter 38 of "100 One Shots" by NatesMama. She did a wonderful job. (And kudos to the rest of y'all writing from the finale storyline — I just haven't read anything else specifically addressing those last three minutes.)_

_Keep your reviews coming — and for those of you who write, please keep those stories coming! I'll do my best to stay up to date reading and respond to direct messages/reviews via my phone._


	10. Not Sick

_Thanks for your patience while I was away with work. This chapter isn't anything particularly exciting, but it was definitely inspired by my two weeks away for work. Part of my job meant giving presentations daily for two weeks straight, and my voice got very tired. Thank goodness for microphones. (Thankfully, it wasn't as bad as I've made Brennan's out to be in this chapter … but I get laryngitis almost every year, so I know the feeling.)_

_Disclaimer: I don't own Bones._

* * *

"Morning." Booth placed a quick kiss on the back of Brennan's neck as he sat up in bed.

She turned over to face him, a tired smile crossing her face as her mouth opened to return the greeting. Furrowing her brow, she cleared her throat and tried again, a hoarse "Morning" finally coming from her lips.

"You're sick."

She shook her head, trying to clear her throat again.

"Laryngitis." Booth diagnosed, leaning to kiss Brennan's forehead. "Guess you picked it up from Angela."

Immediately pouting, Brennan shook her head and tried to talk again, finally resorting to a whispered, "I feel fine."

"So did Angela, remember? She just couldn't talk for a few days."

"Oh no," Brennan managed to convey her dismayed tone even through a whisper. She let out of a frustrated groan as she sat up in bed. "I'm giving that lecture at American tomorrow."

"Well, you might want to reschedule. Not sure it's going to happen." Booth slid out of bed. "I'll go fix you some hot tea. You can shower first. Maybe that'll help."

"Thank you."

"Rest your voice." He smiled. "I'll bring it up for you and I'll get Christine ready."

"OK."

"Hey." He grinned as he put a finger over her lips. "I mean it. No talking. Save your voice."

She rolled her eyes but nodded anyway.

* * *

Cautiously balancing two mugs, Booth opened the bathroom door with his free hand, only to be greeted by a hot rush of steam. "Whew, you got a sauna in here, Bones. Should help open that throat right up." He grinned as she poked her head out of the shower to tell him something. "Hey, no talking, remember? It can wait."

She groaned, rolled her eyes, and adjusted the shower curtain, finishing her final rinse in a matter of seconds. As Booth sipped his coffee, his eyes roamed as Brennan stepped out of the shower, quickly reaching for the towel from the rack.

"Where's Christine?" she whispered hoarsely, rubbing her arms and shoulders dry.

"Still asleep. I laid everything out and figured I'd let her sleep for a few more minutes." Booth handed her a mug. "Hot tea with lemon and honey."

"Thank you," she murmured gratefully, accepting the mug as she tucked the towel around her body. She took a sip and let out a content sigh.

"Taste OK?"

She nodded and mouthed the word, "Perfect."

"Wow. That's high praise coming from you."

"I had no idea you knew how to make a good cup of hot tea," she whispered.

"I'm a constant surprise, Bones." He grinned. "Plus, I've never had the chance to make you hot tea. I don't think you've been sick since … forever."

"I'm not sick."

"Right." He nodded. "Just unable to speak. And speaking of which, you need to mouth words and not whisper. Save your voice."

She immediately argued, her voice still shot. "That won't work today at the lab."

He shrugged. "Sorry. Guess you're going to be texting and writing a lot."

* * *

By the time she met him for lunch at the diner, Brennan was almost ready to call it a day out of sheer frustration. No one in the lab seemed to understand her hand motions, and her ability to whisper had almost died.

"Daisy is the only one who knows sign language," she wrote to Booth, who merely grinned in his place across from her at the diner as he read her message. "I find this very aggravating."

"In that whole place of geniuses, you two are the only ones with sign language skills? Yeah, that really is unfortunate," Booth agreed. "And I'm sure it's time consuming to spell out every word."

Brennan nearly nodded as she took a sip of her water. She glanced up as the waitress came over.

"Hey." Booth greeted the woman with a friendly smile. "I'll have the usual. Dr. Brennan will have the largest hot tea you can find with lemon and honey. And whatever vegetarian soup you've got — a big bowl."

"You got it. Sorry about your throat, Dr. Brennan."

Brennan tried to say thank you, and gave a frustrated sigh when nothing came out of her mouth. Booth tried not to chuckle, but couldn't hold back a grin. "Admit it, Bones. This is pretty funny."

She shook her head.

"I've never been around you when you can't talk. It's …" Suddenly, Booth realized he needed to choose his next words very carefully. "Um … I don't like it."

She raised an eyebrow as if to say, "Oh? Do continue."

"I like your voice. I love talking to you." Booth paused. "And of course I hate to see you sick."

"Not sick," she immediately mouthed.

"Right, just completely unable to speak."

She glanced back down at the notepad in front of her and wrote, "What I am going to do about the lecture tomorrow?"

"Can someone else give it for you?" Booth immediately realized this was a dumb question, and before he could blink, Brennan's written "Absolutely not" appeared on the notepad. He rephrased his question. "Could you have someone deliver it for you?"

She shook her head, writing, "They asked for me. I'm the expert."

"Guess you may have to reschedule."

* * *

When the first thing he heard when he arrived home that evening was a dry cough coming from the kitchen area, Booth knew it was time to get insistent with Brennan.

"Hey." He walked in and kissed Brennan's forehead. "Christine in bed?"

She nodded.

"You still sick but not sick, huh?"

She gave a noncommittal shrug.

"Did you cancel for tomorrow yet?"

Slowly, Brennan shook her head.

"Bones. You know you need to."

She huffed and crossed her arms.

"You can give the lecture another time. They love you over there — they'll let you reschedule, especially for an illness." Booth pointed to the laptop on the coffee table. "Shoot them an email and I'll fix you some hot tea. You can drink while I eat dinner."

Accepting defeat, Brennan walked over to pick up her laptop, sitting cross-legged on the couch as her fingers flew across the keyboard. Booth woofed down his dinner, taking his plate to the sink as the teakettle began to whistle.

"Shhh!" he scolded, quickly hurrying over to the stovetop to stop the noise. Brennan, still working on her email, looked up with a brief smile at his antics, and then resumed her work.

A few minutes later, Booth settled next to Brennan on the couch, presenting her with a steaming mug. "It's hotter than the stuff I made this morning, so wait a minute to drink it, OK?"

She nodded and smiled as he clinked her mug against his. "Some for you?" she asked hoarsely.

"Yeah. Figured I should join you."

"Never seen you with tea."

"Eh, there's a first time for everything." He smiled as she closed her laptop and put her head on his shoulder. "Got the email sent?" He felt her nod. "Good deal. Mind if I turn on the game?"

"Go ahead." She looked up and whispered, "Not like I'm going to talk much."

"I figured." He kissed her forehead as he used the remote to flip to the right channel. Quickly becoming caught up in the game, he wouldn't have noticed Brennan's first sip of tea, had she not started coughing after the drink. "You OK?"

"Whiskey," she muttered, giving him a look through narrowed eyes.

"Yeah, it's good for coughs."

"Should have told me."

"It's a modified hot toddy, Bones. Admit it, it's good."

Begrudgingly, she nodded.

"Granted, I put a lot of whiskey in yours."

"You want me drunk," she accused in a hoarse whisper.

"Who, me? Never. I'm a gentleman. And I made myself one." He held up his mug and took a healthy sip. "Mmm."

"So_ that's_ why you wanted tea."

* * *

_Like I said, nothing fancy. Just a little "hi, I'm finally back!" chapter. _


	11. Taking Care of Emma

_I realize the show doesn't have time to cover everything, but it's always made me a little frustrated not to have Brennan's nieces back in the picture. This is a snippet from sometime after season 3 (which is where we last saw the girls), when Russ is out of prison and Booth is single (and obviously way before Booth and Brennan are together) — feel free to place it wherever you so desire within those parameters. _

_Disclaimer: I don't own Bones._

* * *

The shrill tone of his phone made Booth wince as he rummaged around on his bedside table in the dark. "Booth." He rubbed his eyes and slowly stretched, listening to the voice on the line. "Yeah. No, don't worry about it — I'll go pick her up." He paused, sitting up and then gradually swinging his legs over to the floor as he reached for the lamp. "Yeah. Got it. Thanks." He sighed and looked down at his phone, quickly composing a text to Brennan: _"They said you didn't answer. I'll call in a few, but be ready in 20."_

He shuffled around the dim room to find jeans and a decent shirt to wear to a 1 a.m. crime scene, grabbing his gun and badge before slipping into his shoes. As he locked his apartment door, he dialed Brennan, curiously listening to her voicemail — _when was the last time he had heard that message?_ —before hanging up to call her again.

She answered on the final ring, sounding a little out of breath, with an uncharacteristic, "Yes?"

"Hey Bones. Sorry to bother you, but we've got a case."

"Oh." She seemed distracted, and as Booth started his car, he wondered what he'd interrupted.

"Can you be ready in 20?"

"Actually …" she hesitated, her voice slightly muffled with noises in the background.

"Where are you?"

"I'm … I'm just a little busy at the moment, Booth."

"The hospital?"

"Um …"

"Don't lie to me, Bones. I just heard a code blue over the intercom." He heard her let out a telltale sigh. "Are you OK?"

"I'm fine."

"If it's not you, who is it?"

"Russ's step-daughter Hayley."

"Is she going to be all right?"

"I'm not sure."

Booth knew Brennan's failure to answer honestly meant one of two things: either she knew the answer and it wasn't good, or she was standing too close to family to make any sort of announcement to Booth. "I'll call in for you, Bones."

"Thank you. Cam is qualified to take my place. I can examine everything in the morning once I get things worked out here." Brennan paused, knowing she needed to tell Booth more. "I'm not sure when I'll be in tomorrow."

He was still trying to put the pieces together, but took a guess anyway. "You have Emma, don't you?"

"Yes."

"I'll be there in 20."

"That's not necessary."

"I know how this works. You're not crashing with an exhausted child in a hospital waiting room chair all night."

"No, I was going to take her to my apartment."

"You're not fit to drive."

She immediately protested. "You don't know that."

"I'm already on my way. Too late."

* * *

Secretly, she was grateful when Booth appeared around the corner of the ICU waiting room. He gave her a smile as he sat down next to her, glancing at Emma, who was stretched out in the chair next to Brennan, her head in her aunt's lap.

"How's Hayley?" he asked quietly.

Brennan shook her head. "Not well."

"What happened?"

"Bad reaction to treatment, but they're not sure why. She's been receiving this kind of treatment for almost two weeks."

Emma's eyes fluttered open, and she sleepily looked up at Brennan, then over at Booth.

"Emma, you remember my partner, Agent Booth?" Brennan smiled at her niece. "He's going to take us home."

"I want to stay with Hayley."

"I know, but we can't. We need to get some rest. We'll come visit Hayley tomorrow."

"He works for the police," Emma remembered, suddenly biting her lip as she stared at Booth. "Is Daddy is trouble again?" Her eyes filled with tears.

"No." Booth spoke before Brennan could say a word.

"You sure?"

"Yes. Your Dad is fine," Brennan assured Emma.

"Promise?"

"I promise." Brennan nodded. "Let's go home."

* * *

The car ride to Brennan's was quiet, save for the phone calls Booth made to Cam and a supervisor, asking them to take care of scene and have the necessary evidence sent to the Jeffersonian.

"You postponed a case for me."

"Yeah." Booth glanced over at Brennan with a slight look of surprise. "Why wouldn't I?"

"You didn't have to come get us."

"I wanted to." He paused. "And you'd do the same for me. Plus, you really think I wanted to spend my night outside in a ditch off the interstate staring at bones? No way."

She gave him a tired smile. "If we're being honest, me neither."

As Booth parked the car, he had to grab Brennan's arm before she could get out of the passenger's seat. "I'll get her."

"I can do it."

"Bones, please let me help you."

She caved without further argument, and watched as he effortlessly scooped Emma into his arms. As he climbed the stairs to the building, Emma wound her arms around Booth's neck and buried her face into his chest.

Brennan unlocked her door and headed for the guest room, turning down the sheets and fluffing the pillows as Booth stood waiting behind her. He gently placed Emma in the middle of the bed and reached to slip off her shoes as Brennan adjusted the comforter around her niece.

"Night, Aunt B," mumbled Emma sleepily, turning on her side.

"Good night, sweetheart." Brennan leaned to brush the hair out of Emma's face. "Come get me if you need anything."

The young girl nodded, her eyes still closed as she nestled her head into one of the pillows. Brennan walked out of the bedroom, drawing the door closed behind her after Booth followed her into the den.

"You called her 'sweetheart.'"

"Russ calls them that. It slipped out, and I thought it might be comforting." Brennan glanced at Booth hesitantly. "Should I not have said it?"

"No," he quickly reassured. "It was perfect. I've just never heard you use a term of endearment like that before. You did great, Bones. You're a good aunt."

"I don't get to see them nearly as much as I would like," Brennan admitted as she walked into her kitchen, going straight for her teakettle. "I wish they were closer to DC."

"Maybe someday."

"Maybe." She turned to look at him. "I'm fixing tea. Want any?"

"I'm good — just water, please. You staying up?"

"Yes. I need to research treatment options."

Booth put his hand on her shoulder, and Brennan stopped what she was doing to set the kettle on the stove. "You need to sleep."

"I …"

"No arguing." He gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze.

"I pay for her treatment. I need to know what's going on."

"And I'm sure her doctors will tell you when they figure it out. Right now, you need to sleep."

"I can help diagnose. My expertise may even …"

"Hey." He grabbed her waist and gently turned her so that she was facing him. "You can research for thirty minutes, and then you're going to bed."

"Booth, you're making me feel like a child."

"You'll be worthless at the lab and with helping figure out Hayley's diagnosis if you don't sleep. You and I both know that."

Stubbornly, she shook her head and turned, reaching for a mug from her cabinet.

"You don't know how long Hayley's going to be in the hospital. Rest while you can. You might have Emma for a couple of days, and trust me, you need every bit of sleep you can get when you're taking care of a kid."

"OK." She sighed. As they waited for the water to boil, she poured him a glass of water from her pitcher in the fridge. "Sure you don't want anything else?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." He paused. "So it's not good with Hayley, huh?"

"It's … puzzling." Brennan bit her lip. "I'm not sure why the treatment is just now doing this to her. It's highly unusual."

"She's pretty sick?"

Brennan nodded. "She looked terrible. So did Russ and Amy."

"Emma looked pretty worn out herself."

Before Brennan could answer, the teakettle let out a faint whistle. Lifting it from the stove eye, she poured the steaming water into the waiting mug. "So, my thirty minutes starts now?"

"Yep."

* * *

"Any luck?"

Brow furrowed, Brennan shook her head, eyes unmoving from her laptop screen.

"Let me refill your tea."

Still silent, she handed Booth her empty mug, clicking to another tab in her web browser. When he returned a minute later, she murmured a quiet, "Thank you," still engrossed in the information on her computer. He sat down next to her, desperately wishing he could help as he watched her scan through page after page of medical jargon. As he leaned closer, Brennan adjusted her position, resting her head on his shoulder.

"Do you mind?" The low tone of her voice hinted at sleepiness, and Booth couldn't help but smile.

"Of course not."

"Thank you." She glanced at the clock on her screen and sighed.

"I know. I'll give you five extra minutes, but that means bed in fifteen."

"How generous." She glanced away from the screen to give Booth a sarcastic grin. "But thank you. I'll take it."

Those fifteen minutes flew, and Booth was just as surprised as Brennan when he glanced at his watch and announced, "Hey. Sorry — it's bed time."

She let out a frustrated sigh. "But I haven't found anything."

"Sure you have."

"No," she gave him an annoyed look, "I haven't. If I had, I'd be headed to the hospital to discuss my findings with the doctors."

"You've just found things that won't work."

"Which essentially means I didn't find anything." She eyed him suspiciously. "How do you intend to make sure I go to bed?"

"I'm crashing on your couch."

"You're welcome to stay, but …" Her eyes widened just slightly as Booth placed a finger over her lips. "What are you doing?"

"I'm crashing on your couch. You're going to bed. That's the deal. God forbid anything happen, but if you need to get to the hospital quickly, I'll be here to get both of you there in time. No arguing."

For a second, Brennan looked like she would protest, but she closed her laptop and placed it on her coffee table. "You should take the bed."

"No way."

"I can sleep on the couch just fine."

"If you sleep on the couch, you're going to cheat and stay up all night." Booth contained his grin at her guilty look as he held out his hands to pull her off the couch. "Come on. Up we go … let me borrow some mouthwash and use your bathroom."

"Stay with me."

He raised his eyebrows, not sure if he understood her proposition.

"It doesn't make sense for you to stay on the couch, and it's terrible for your back. We can both be adults about this. Besides, we'll only get a couple hours of sleep anyway."

"Right." He nodded, following her to the master bathroom. "You sure?"

"Yes." She glanced over her shoulder at him. "Unless you're uncomfortable with it."

"_God, no. Of course not. It's not like sleeping next to you and not doing anything is only the hardest thing I've ever done,"_ Booth thought to himself, before he finally said, "Nah, Bones. I'm fine with it."

* * *

He woke up an hour into their brief sleep, and she fidgeted, waking up just seconds after him.

"Was that Em?" came her voice, still thick with sleep.

"Yeah. Want me to get her?"

"No." She sat up and moved until her feet hit the floor. "I need to check on her." Brennan was out the door and into the hallway before Booth could blink. As he rubbed his eyes, he looked around for her clock and groaned — two more hours and his alarm would be going off for work.

Brennan returned a minute later, holding out a glass as she stepped by the side of the bed closest to Booth. "She was just thirsty. Thought you might want water, too. I normally sleep with a glass close."

"Thanks." He took the glass and took a few sips. Before he could set it down, she had it in her hand, finishing off what was left and setting it on the bedside table. He noticed her shiver, and he lifted the comforter. "Here, get in — you're cold."

Without hesitation, she slid into bed next to him, allowing him to tuck the sheet and comforter around her body as she settled her head right under his chin. "This OK?"

"Perfect." He couldn't help pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head. "Can you sleep like this?"

"I think so." She pressed one hand to Booth's chest and curled in toward his warm body. "Am I making you cold?"

"Not at all." Feeling a bit bold, he stroked one hand down her back, gently pressing her closer. "Try to sleep, OK?"

She nodded into his chest. "Night."

* * *

When the alarm went off a few hours later, Brennan was dazed, still contentedly wrapped up next to Booth. While he had only managed to sleep for about an hour after Emma's middle of the night call, he was satisfied knowing that Brennan had rested.

"You shower first." She slowly sat up, pulling away from him slightly. "I'll fix the coffee."

"Just like old times."

She gave him an understanding smile, recalling their routine the two or three previous times they had shared a bed during uncover duty. "Yes. And I think there's a clean shirt and boxers in the bottom dresser drawer." She noticed his confused look. "The last time you stayed over — I just threw your clothes in the laundry with mine."

"Right." He stretched and sat up, gingerly placing his feet on the floor.

"You'll have to wear your jeans again, though."

"That's fine." He stood up. "How'd you sleep?"

She joined him, standing up and stretching her arms above her head. "Very well."

"Good." He headed for the bathroom, and paused as she reached to touch his arm.

"Booth? Thank you." Brennan paused. "For taking care of Emma and making me sleep."

"You took care of Emma," he corrected.

"You helped." Impulsively, Brennan placed a quick kiss on Booth's cheek. "Thank you."

They were both quiet for a few seconds, not sure where to go from there, until Booth's phone interrupted the stillness.

"I better get on that coffee." Brennan let out a sigh as her phone began to ring.

Booth nodded as he headed to retrieve his phone on the nightstand. "Sounds like we're going to need it."

* * *

_FYI: I know the show never lets on that Emma (or Hayley) know Russ's history with the law, but kids aren't stupid. I'd like to think they eventually figure it out, (though they probably don't know the details) which is why I wrote in that part about Emma wondering if Russ was in trouble again._

_Weak ending, but did I make up for it by giving y'all a long chapter? What do you want to see next? As always, thanks for reading and reviewing._


	12. Not According to Plan: Part 1

_I apologize for the delay. Stared a new job last week, and while I love it, they're kicking my tall with all the hours and training sessions!_

_I promised a few readers the story behind kid #2 (mentioned in very first one-shot of this story, which is where we have the first story of kid #3). Didn't realize it was going to be so long, so I've split it into two chapters. Let me know what you think — especially those of you who asked for the story!_

_Disclaimer: I don't own Bones._

* * *

Booth and Brennan had first discussed having a second child just months after Christine's birth, both agreeing they wanted their daughter to grow up with a sibling. As the months progressed, they periodically brought it up, neither one making a definitive statement about when they thought they were ready for child number two.

One morning, as Brennan buckled Christine into her car seat, she bemoaned the fact that Christine had outgrown nearly all her outfits and needed the next size. Sitting in the passenger seat as Booth drove them toward the daycare, Brennan felt him reach for her other hand as she pulled the oval container out of her purse. Puzzled, she watched him silently shake his head at her.

"What?"

Booth smiled mischievously. "Don't take it today."

"But why …" She trailed off, giving him a questioning look. "Really?"

"Yeah, that's why."

"We haven't talked about it in a month."

"You just told me how big Christine's getting. Seems like a good time to me." Still holding her hand, he brought it to his mouth and pressed a kiss to the inside of her wrist. "Stop it."

"Stop what?"

"Stop thinking. I can see that squinty look on your face. You're trying to figure out if it's optimal timing or something, aren't you?"

She nodded. "We're several days past the …"

"Doesn't matter." He glanced over at her with a devilish grin and lowered his voice, "Hell, baby, we're going to have fun trying all week anyway."

He was absolutely right, and Brennan relaxed as she collapsed beside him late that evening, drifting off to sleep utterly spent and satisfied — never dreaming they had conceived on her first day off the pill.

Weeks later, when she gave him the news, she watched as that telltale smile lit up his face, just as he had reacted to her first pregnancy. Before she knew it, she was in his arms and he was spinning her around their kitchen, both of them laughing. Watching her parents' antics from her high chair, Christine clapped her hands and giggled, happily unaware of the meaning of Booth's gleeful announcement: "Christine, you're going to be a big sister!"

* * *

Brennan had been unbelievably sick — so sick that everyone, including her, swore she was pregnant with a boy. One Sunday, she had even let Booth call Cam over for an IV due to her dehydration from vomiting all day Saturday. As the weeks progressed, Booth was insane with worry, and Brennan was exhausted and irritated over Booth's constant monitoring, as well as how the sickness interfered with her work. Were it not for the keen oversight of her interns, who quickly learned to keep trashcans handy at all times, she would have vomited on the lab platform on multiple occasions.

Her horrible "morning sickness" finally began to subside around week 15, and she resumed working without fear of becoming violently ill, gradually picking up weight instead of worrying about pounds lost due to sickness. Just weeks later, it was time to find out the baby's gender, and this time, Brennan made sure Booth was present. Unofficially convinced of the gender before the appointment, they had both been so surprised when the technician announced, "Congratulations, you're having a daughter," and then left them alone for a few minutes in that dark, quiet ultrasound room.

Finally, Booth spoke over the sound of their baby's steady heartbeat. "A girl?"

"I'm just as surprised as you are."

Booth immediately leaned to kiss Brennan's lips. "But I'm thrilled."

"So am I," she assured him, returning the kiss with a smile.

* * *

"I think she's breech."

The words had barely left Brennan's mouth before Booth stopped rubbing his hand over their daughter. Brennan was more than halfway through her pregnancy, and the two were enjoying a movie and time on the couch after putting Christine to bed. They were three weeks past the end of the infinitely more pleasant second trimester, both still experiencing the benefits of Brennan's wild libido. She woke Booth most mornings with a frantic kiss, and he had learned the hard way that he had less than 30 seconds to return the kiss and oblige her or risk a flood of tears that she defensively blamed on her hormones.

"What?"

"Breech," Brennan repeated. "She's not in the vertex position."

"Vertex?"

"Vertex means head down, the standard position. She's in a transverse position," Brennan clarified, seeing Booth's concerned expression. "It's OK for right now."

"You're sure?"

"Yes." She moved his hand up and gently pressed it against her stomach. "Feel that? It's either her head or her rump."

"Rump?"

"Would you prefer me to say 'ass,' because that just sounds …"

Booth cut her off. "No, definitely not. When did she get that way?"

"I'm not sure."

"Does it feel weird?"

She shook her head. "Not really. If she stays like this for much longer, her kicks might feel odd."

"I guess she wouldn't be kicking your ribs like Christine did all the time, though." Booth suddenly grimaced. "But kicking down there probably isn't fun either."

Brennan laughed and kissed Booth's cheek reassuringly. "I'm OK. I promise."

"You worried?"

"No. Besides, even if she stays breech, I can still deliver naturally. It will just be more difficult."

"Bones," Booth groaned, leaning his head back against the couch. "Don't tell me that. And don't tell me any specifics or risks or complications. No crazy birth story like Christine. We'll talk about complications only if we have to deal with them. Deal?"

Quickly realizing she didn't want Booth worrying over her again, Brennan nodded. "Deal."

* * *

Over the last few weeks, Booth had found Brennan reclining with her pelvis elevated. She had explained she was trying to use gravity to coax the baby to somersault into presenting position. One morning, prior to a doctor's appointment, she had tried something slightly different, getting on her knees and forearms. She had laughed at Booth's startled look and assured him that this was an alternate way to encourage the baby to move, then chatted with him about their plans for the day. After ten minutes, she got up, showered, and they went their separate ways — her to the appointment and him to the office.

As Booth sat through another mind-numbing budget meeting, he glanced as his cell lit up with a text from Brennan, reading, "_What is your schedule next week?"_

He texted back, "Depends on cases, but what's up? I can arrange time off."

"_The doctor has confirmed the midwife's breech diagnosis. He wants to try an ECV, and I would like you to be present."_

His brow furrowed as he typed the words "what's an ECV" into the search bar of his mobile's browser. Seeing his answer, he replied to Brennan with, _"Tell me when you want me and I'm there. I'll take the day off."_

Her reply: _"That shouldn't be necessary. The procedure takes 20 minutes, and I'll only be there for two hours at most."_

"_Doesn't matter. Tell me when."_

"_Wednesday at 10 am?"_

"_You got it. Love you."_

"_Love you, too."_

When he arrived home that night, he saw straight past her brave face and artificially cheery greeting. Turning her away from Christine, who was happily eating and playing with pasta noodles at the table, he walked them out of the kitchen and held Brennan tightly as she buried her face against his chest, her chest heaving as she cried.

"Hey, it's OK," he soothed, running one hand through her hair and down her back. "Get it all out. Shhh. You're OK."

"I … but … C-Chris-t-tine …" she sniffled, trailing off.

"She's fine. She's oblivious, and I can see her just fine from here. She's still playing with her food, happy as a clam." He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Go ahead, cry. I know you're upset."

"I d-don't …" she hiccupped and gasped to catch her breath, "w-want the ECV-V."

"I know, baby."

"It's n-not r-risky …"

"But you still don't want it. I know." He smiled at her attempt to be rational, even when she had a more than valid reason to be upset. "You want a normal delivery and not all this intervention. So do I. It's OK to be upset about that."

"B-but I'm m-mad at h-her. W-why?" Brennan stuttered through her tears as she rubbed her abdomen, and Booth had to fight the urge not to laugh.

"Bones, it's OK to be mad. She's not turned the right way, and there's nothing you can do about it. I'd be mad if I were you, too." He pressed another kiss to Brennan's forehead. "If you weren't mad, I'd worry about you."

"Really?" She looked up at him, her eyes still watery.

"Really," he assured her. "Sometimes it's OK to be mad."

* * *

During the ECV, Booth was a nervous wreck and Brennan was the portrait of calmness. He gripped her hand tightly and watched as the doctor and midwife that she had handpicked prepared to maneuver their unborn child into a suitable position. As the doctor pressed one hand into Brennan's side, Booth made a face and squeezed her hand.

"I'm all right," Brennan assured him softly, looking up at Booth's concerned face. "It's OK if you don't watch."

"Uh uh. I'm staying right here. Not leaving you."

"I want you here," she clarified. "You just don't have to watch what they're doing. Watch the ultrasound screen if you prefer."

Over the next ten minutes, Booth's eyes flittered back and forth between Brennan's face and the ultrasound screen, paying special attention when she squeezed his hand or let out an occasional deep sigh.

"Dr. Brennan, don't hold your breath," the midwife reminded. "Are we hurting you?"

"No." Brennan exhaled, pressing her lips together tightly, then frowned as the doctor removed his hands. "What are you doing?"

"You weren't convincing me." He smiled. "We'll give you a minute. Catch your breath and try to relax. Don't fight the terbutaline. You're doing great."

Closing her eyes, Brennan leaned back against the hospital bed, slowly exhaling again. "Sorry."

"It's OK. Sorry you're uncomfortable."

The minutes dragged on, and finally, the midwife gave a defeated sigh. "She's not turning."

"Yeah, she's stubborn, and I'm having a hard time grasping the head." The doctor looked at Brennan. "Do you want us to try again?"

Brennan immediately nodded.

"I know your likely answer, but I'd like for you to think about anesthesia for this attempt …"

"If you mean an epidural, absolutely not."

The doctor shrugged and smiled. "I figured. Your call."

* * *

ECV attempt two was also unsuccessful, and Brennan felt the painful aftermath of the procedure when she woke up just after midnight. She sucked in a deep breath and reached for the lamp by her side of the bed.

"You OK?" came Booth's groggy voice, feeling her move and hearing her sigh of discomfort.

"No," she admitted, watching as he opened his eyes at her confession. "Could you get me some Tylenol?"

"Sure." He climbed out of bed and headed for the bathroom, returning a minute later with a glass of water and two pills.

"I think I'm bruised." She pulled up the hem of her shirt and grimaced as her fingers ghosted over the blue and purple blotches on her abdomen.

"God, Bones." Booth kissed her forehead as he slipped back into bed. "Baby, I'm sorry. That looks horrible."

"Bruising is normal. I'm just sorry it didn't work." She took the pills from Booth's hand and sipped the water. "It was strange to pick her birthday today, wasn't it?"

"A little." He smiled reassuringly. "You more OK with it now?"

"I guess. Unless she decides to move on her own, there's really nothing I can do about it." She paused to swallow the pills. "I just wish she would turn enough to guarantee a safe natural delivery."

"After what they told you today, even if she turned a little, delivery would still be hard." He looked at her quizzically. "You're not still thinking about trying to do it naturally, are you?"

"No." She was quiet for a few seconds. "I'm not afraid of it being difficult, but I agree with Dr. Prentiss — I don't want to risk putting her in distress." Reaching over to turn off the light, she settled back down into bed. "I'll talk to Max about watching Christine while we're in the hospital."

"Sounds like a plan." He kissed her forehead. "Relax. We've got another twelve days."

* * *

"Booth!" The panicked tone of Brennan's voice — something Booth had only heard once or twice in the entirety of knowing her — was enough to rouse him from deep slumber. "My water broke. We need to get to the hospital." She stood by his side of the bed, disheveled and half-dressed, rubbing a hand over her stomach. "Quickly."

He sat up and rubbed his eyes as he moved out of bed in search of his jeans. "Max on the way?"

"I called Angela. She's closer."

"OK." He pressed a quick kiss to her temple. "Lay back down. I'll grab your bag and lay out breakfast for Christine. Just rest easy, OK?"

Angela made it to their house in record time, and gave both of them quick kisses as they headed out the door. By the time they got to the hospital, Brennan had lost her brave face and was in near agony. She willingly took the first wheelchair Booth found and groaned when the nurse at the front desk asked about her contractions.

"So they're close … five minutes apart or less?"

"Damn it," Brennan cursed and squeezed her eyes shut as she reached for Booth's hand. "In a few more minutes, I'm going to need to push."

"Uh uh, that's a bad idea," Booth shook his head, then looked up at the nurse, reaching for his badge. "Listen, she called here twenty minutes ago. She's scheduled for a c-section and …"

"Dr. Brennan!" Another nurse, who Booth vaguely recognized from somewhere, rounded the corner, waving the other nurse away. "Hey, I'm Anna — Dr. Morgan's surgery nurse. He's scrubbing in now, and we've got everything set up. Let's go get you two ready for your baby!"

* * *

_If you're not familiar with an ECV, feel free to Google it at your own risk. Those videos aren't for the faint of heart. Also, I'm operating on the old wives' tale that when you're pregnant with a boy, you feel sicker because of the all "boy stuff" (hormones) in your body. Obviously, as Booth and Brennan found out, it's not 100% accurate._

_I've got most of part 2 ready to go. The faster you review, the more likely I am to post it within 24 hours ... just saying. :)_


	13. Not According to Plan: Part 2

_A/N: If you haven't read the chapter before this one, you're going to want to do that — then please come back to this chapter._

_Disclaimer: I don't own Bones._

* * *

Booth blinked as he followed one of the nurses into the brightly lit operating room, trying to get his eyes to adjust to the lights. He glanced around the room, taking in the trays of tools, a long table of equipment, an empty incubator, and yards of the blue medical tarp, draped over and around Brennan's body.

Brennan watched him as he looked around the room, clearly trying to mentally prepare himself. "Booth?"

He immediately turned to look at her. "Hey." He walked over to the end of the table, where he quickly bent to kiss Brennan's forehead.

"I know you're worried," she murmured. "I promise — all that equipment is normal."

"You're the one who's supposed to be upset," Booth said, smiling. "And here you are, trying to assure me that everything is normal."

"Well, you looked overwhelmed."

"It's just a lot to take in. I've never been awake in an operating room before." He took his seat beside her. "How ya feeling?"

"I'm OK. Ready to meet our daughter." Brennan sighed, her lower lip trembling. "When … when they've got her out, I want you to describe her to me."

He nodded.

"I won't be able to see her, and they might take her away …"

"Bones. They'll let you see her."

She shook her head. "Just in case." She paused. "See the incubator on the other side of the drape?"

"Yeah."

"That's in case they have to rush her away once they deliver her."

Knowing Brennan was uneasy about the fact that her c-section plan could be changed if anything went wrong with the delivery, Booth tried to calm her. "All the nurse said earlier was that her heart rate was a little lower than they'd like. Bones, she's fine. Everything's good. They're going to get her out, clean her up, and I'll try not to bawl like an idiot when they hand her to me."

Brennan couldn't help but laugh.

"And then I'll try not to cry when you lose it after I get to show her to you."

"These medicines do make me very emotional," Brennan admitted.

"It's OK if you cry, Bones."

"I know."

Booth continued, "And after they get you fixed up, our daughter and I are going with you to recovery. And I won't even protest when you want to hold her the whole time." Booth paused, adding, "But look Bones, even if something doesn't go according to plan, I'll make sure you see her. I promise."

Brennan knew it was pointless to try to argue with him, so she simply smiled. "Just in case. Remember our pact: the second you see her, you tell me what she looks like and if she's moving."

"I will." Booth suddenly noticed Brennan's arms, which were secured down with Velcro straps. "Bones …"

"It's normal," she assured him. "My arms will likely shake due to the medications — and I'm a little anxious and might move when they need me to stay still."

"I don't like it."

"Me either," she admitted.

Booth switched subjects. "Do you want me to tell you what they're doing?"

She shook her head again. "Anna is going to stand by me and relay everything to me. No offense — she knows anatomy and it's easier if it's all sciency words."

Booth grinned at Brennan's definition. "Hey, you're using my word."

"I know." Brennan smiled. "You have to stay up here by my head and help calm me. But you're free to watch the procedure at any time. I don't mind."

"I probably won't look — not until they've got her."

"Probably a good idea. It's hard to watch an operation on someone you know."

Brennan was caught off guard as Booth planted a firm kiss on her mouth, murmuring, "I'm sorry."

"For what?" She looked at him curiously.

"For asking you to watch my brain surgery."

"That was a long time ago."

"Still. I shouldn't have asked you to watch it."

"Don't be foolish. I didn't mind."

"You just said it was hard."

Brennan swallowed. "It was hard. But I needed to be there."

"Dr. Brennan." Dr. Morgan interrupted the conversation as he entered the room, striding over towards his patient. "How are you feeling?"

"Numb — which is good — and a little fatigued. And cold."

"All normal. Are you uncomfortable?"

"I'm OK." Brennan fidgeted slightly.

Dr. Morgan nodded his head toward the anesthesiologist in the room. "Dr. Michaelson has you all dosed up, but I want you to tell us immediately if you feel any pain, OK? You should be fine. He's just here as standard procedure."

Brennan nodded.

"I've got my two nurses and you've got Anna and Agent Booth. You ready?"

"Yes." Brennan paused. "I know this is irrational and you're going to do this anyway, but …" her voice wavered ever so slightly as she reminded, "Please be careful."

"We will," he promised. "Anna's going to be right here telling you what's going on, and you can ask me questions at any time if you want to."

"Thank you." Brennan turned to look at Booth, whose eyes were closed. His lips were moving slightly as he clasped one of Brennan's hands. She watched him silently, waiting until his lips stopped moving.

Booth opened his eyes to see Brennan staring at him. "Just saying a quick prayer."

"Margaret or Nicholas?"

"What?"

"You were asking the saints to protect us, weren't you? Margaret or Nicholas?" she repeated.

"Both." He paused, squeezing her hand. "You know the saints?"

She smiled at his confused look. "It's important to you. I'm trying to learn them."

He leaned to kiss her forehead. "You're incredible, you know that?"

Brennan's slight smile turned to a look of shock. "Oh."

"What's wrong?"

"I feel it."

"What?" Alarmed, Booth looked over at Anna. "She can feel what they're doing?"

"It's normal," Anna explained.

"I can feel pressure and … tugging, for lack of a better word."

"And that's normal?" Booth didn't sound convinced.

"Yes, completely normal." Brennan turned her head towards Anna. "I take it they've started on the incision."

"Yes. Do you want me to tell you what's going on?"

"No, thank you. I know what they're doing right now."

"Are you hurting?" Booth looked at Brennan anxiously.

"It doesn't hurt."

"I'm sorry. I'm not being calm for you."

Brennan closed her eyes. "Just keep talking to me. Please."

"OK." Booth gently rubbed Brennan's hand. "Checked my phone before coming in here. Angela said Christine woke up for a couple minutes, but she's back asleep now."

"Good. Did Angela tell her where we were?"

"Yeah, but she's not sure that Christine got it. She said Christine was half asleep."

"What else did she say?"

Booth grinned. "She warned me that you're a crazy woman when you're on pain medication."

"Which is why I hate pain medication." Brennan groaned. "And it was just that one time after the dentist. I wasn't crazy after my last hospital visit."

"Regardless, it's one hell of a story."

"Angela embellishes it every time she tells it." Brennan sucked in a deep breath and opened her eyes. "Anna?"

Booth ignored the 'sciency words' coming from Anna's mouth until she finished with the sentence, "You're fine, Dr. Brennan."

"How much longer?"

"Six minutes tops. You're doing well."

Booth continued chatting with Brennan, mainly about Christine and who they would need to help take care of her over the next couple days. As they discussed how to manage having the two grandparents over at the house, Brennan squeezed Booth's hand. "Anna?"

The petite nurse rose on her tiptoes to peer over the sheet. "Feeling a little bit more pressure?"

"Yes."

"That's normal."

"OK."

"Dr. Brennan? In about a minute, you're going to feel some pulling," Dr. Morgan announced. "It's all normal — I just didn't want it to catch you off guard."

"Just keep trying to relax. It helps to find something to focus on — try squeezing Agent Booth's hand," Anna suggested. "The pulling feeling will only last for a minute or two, but it can be unsettling sensation."

Brennan looked up at Anna. "You didn't tell me you've had a c-section."

"Yep. I had my little boy here a year ago — delivered him early because I had some complications with a cyst."

"I find it extremely reassuring that you've done this."

Anna smiled. "Well, I'm glad to be reassuring. And I'm thankful I got a chance to help — you're part the reason I got to deliver here in the first place."

Booth raised a questioning eyebrow as he looked over at Anna. "Huh?"

"Dr. Brennan is part of a foundation that gave our unit money almost two years ago."

"Well, the facilities needed the funds. The foundation was glad to help. Besides, now I'm benefiting from it as well." Brennan's eyes suddenly went wide. "Booth."

"Right here. Squeeze away."

"It feels so …" Brennan hesitated. "I don't like it."

"Hey, you're doing great," Booth encouraged, using his free hand to brush Brennan's hair away from her face.

"I'm about to be extremely irrational," she warned.

"Go right ahead."

Brennan's breathing quickened, and she felt tears springing up. "Oh … it feels strange. I don't like how it feels. Booth, make it stop."

"I can't, sweetheart." Booth stroked her cheek. "I'm sorry."

"I don't like this." Brennan's chin quivered.

"Baby, you're doing great. You're being so brave."

"No I'm not." Brennan paused as Booth's hand gently wiped away the few tears on her cheeks. "I'm crying and whining about something that doesn't even hurt because I'm numb."

"It may not hurt, but it's definitely not comfortable. And you're not whining."

"I'm scared," she whispered.

"Look at me." He waited until she turned to look him in the eyes. "Trust me — you're OK. Whatever happens, we're going to be all right."

"How much longer?"

"You're so close," Booth encouraged. "Hang on. Almost finished, and then we'll get to hold her."

"Distract me," she begged tearfully, clinging to his wrist.

Instantly, he leaned over her, kissing her lips gently over and over and brushing away the tears on her cheeks, until he felt her grip on his wrist relax ever so slightly.

"Thank you," she murmured.

"You're OK," he soothed, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "You've done so well. Almost over."

"A little more tension," Anna warned quietly.

"Does that mean …" Booth turned his head slightly toward the doctor.

Brennan jerked Booth's wrist hard to get his attention. "No, trust me, you don't want to look yet. Anna will tell you."

"Sorry." He gave her his best confident charm smile. "Hey, have I ever told you how much I love you?"

"Maybe once or twice …"

"I thought for sure you'd say something about my sappiness there."

"No, you're trying to be sweet and soothe me. I can appreciate that." Brennan suddenly went on full alert after hearing one of the other nurses say something. "Anna?"

"All right, Agent Booth — now might be a good time to stand up and look over the sheet. Keep holding her hand." Anna leaned away from Brennan. "Everything still looks normal, Dr. Brennan. Keep breathing."

"Please keep watching." Brennan looked at Booth as he stood and watched his expression change immediately. "Booth?"

"Temperance." Booth swallowed, tightening his grip on her hand. "You … you sure you're OK?"

"I know it looks bad. I can tell by your face," she said. "I'm not hurting. What do you see?"

"Oh God."

"What?"

"I'm not sure exactly what ... God, Bones … baby, you're sure you're not hurting? Because …"

"Booth! Tell me what you see!"

"Whoa, legs — legs and feet … there's her little back."

"Little? Too little?"

"No, not too little," Anna interrupted reassuringly.

"OK, shoulders — they're wiggling her out … whoa, arms. Her fingers are spread way out like she's grabbing." Booth paused, his eyes widening as he swallowed. "Oh God."

"What?"

Booth continued, surprised at his steady voice as he wiped away a single tear from his eye. "She's here. They've got her, Bones. She's out … she's here."

"Dr. Brennan, we've got your little girl," Dr. Morgan announced.

"Booth, you promised to describe!"

"She's turned away from me — I can't see her face, but she's got dark hair, baby. Tons of it. More than Christine had." Booth craned his neck, surveying the little he could see. "She's … not crying, but she's out."

Brennan nodded tearfully. "I know."

"They've got her on your chest, Bones. Can you tell?"

"No." Brennan shook her head, distressed. "Booth, I can't feel her."

"She's still, but she's there, I promise. She's just … quiet."

Brennan's tears began to run uncontrollably down her face as she murmured, "Please, cry. Just a little cry."

"They're cleaning out her nose and mouth. Oh!" Booth inhaled sharply. "Bones, she moved. She's moving. Oh God, thank you … she's moving her arms and kicking one leg."

Brennan's tears continued to fall as she heard a slight noise, almost a squeak.

"Did you hear her?" Booth asked. "That was Adeline."

"Uh huh." Brennan sniffled. "She's still too quiet. Is she breathing?"

"Shh, she's moving, she's made a noise. That's good," Booth said, giving Brennan's hand a reassuring squeeze.

"You did well, Dr. Brennan. She looks good," Anna encouraged.

"Is she blue? What's her size?"

Anna gave some color temperature and guess on a weight and size to Brennan, while Booth ignored the medical jargon talk, waiting until Anna finished.

"Bones?"

"Yes?"

"She's beautiful. She's tiny, and she's got these little features. She's so pretty, baby. Her lips look like a tiny rosebud. Just like Christine's."

Before Brennan could smile at Booth's description, she saw the sheet being adjusted, and the medical team moving towards the other side of the room. "Where … oh, they're taking her away."

"Rachel." Anna's voice rang out in the room as she addressed another nurse. "Bring her over for Dr. Brennan to see."

"But …"

"Thirty seconds. She has the right to see her daughter before you rush her away." Anna bent to release one of Brennan's arms. "Go easy, OK? You're shaking pretty badly."

Brennan struggled to lift her free arm as the nurse headed over to the head of the bed. As she brought the baby over towards Brennan, Booth reached to help guide Brennan's trembling hand. "Hi Adeline. Oh, I'm so glad you're here." Brennan paused as she stroked Adeline's cheek, then looked up at the nurse, pleading, "Can you bring her a little closer?"

The nurse lifted the baby towards Brennan's face, and she planted a gentle kiss on the top of her damp head. "Baby girl, I love you. Daddy and I aren't leaving you."

Just then, the infant finally chose to let out a wail, which Brennan welcomed with a relieved laugh. "There you go — good girl!"

Booth pressed a quick kiss to Adeline's tiny face right before the nurse walked her back over to the incubator. "Hey sweetheart. Thanks for letting us know you're OK. We love you."

Brennan watched as the nurse wheeled her newborn away. "Thank you, Anna."

"Don't mention it. It's the least I could do." Anna looked over at Booth. "You sure you don't want to accompany her to the nursery?"

Booth looked torn, trying to figure out whether to stay with Brennan during the final moments of her surgery or make sure his daughter wasn't alone with nurses for a few minutes. "Will they let me?"

"Eh … good point. If I fussed at them enough, they might. Otherwise, you'll see her in about ten minutes in recovery, assuming she passes all her tests."

"We'll do that." Booth squeezed Brennan's hand and leaned to kiss her lips. "You are amazing. I am so proud of you."

Brennan gave him a watery smile. "I'm really glad it's almost over."

"Me too. Let's try not to do it this way again."

She gave him a shaky thumbs up. "Deal."

Over the next few minutes, Booth resumed his duties of distracting Brennan as the team closed up her incision. He recited every detail about the baby that he could think of, and answered Brennan's questions.

"Did you count her toes?"

"No, but we can do that in recovery."

"OK. Her fingers looked normal?"

"Yeah, they were spread like this." Booth demonstrated by holding up his free hand and spreading his fingers wide. "We can count those, too."

"She didn't open her eyes."

"Not yet. She will. She's just holding out on us a little bit longer."

Brennan smiled. "She's so beautiful."

"Absolutely. Takes after her momma."

"You're a kiss up."

"Suck up," Booth corrected. "I'm a suck up."

"Kiss up sounds better. And it makes sense."

Booth grinned as he leaned to kiss her. "True."

* * *

_Well? Did everyone survive, or did I scare you away? Thanks for all the reviews — they helped ensure that I got part 2 posted quickly! _

_To clarify, a couple of you mentioned in reviews/messages from the last chapter that it's possible to deliver a breech baby naturally. That's absolutely true, though if it's a transverse breech (baby lies sideways), which is what I wrote, you'll have a c-section. (At least that's what I found from research. If it's a butt or feet first breech, you can definitely deliver naturally, provided there aren't other complications and your doctor/midwife is skilled to perform that kind of delivery.)_

_We're probably not done with glimpses into kid number two's life (after all, I didn't even give you her full name!), but I will give it a rest for a bit and go back to writing about her later. Feel free to shoot me ideas or things you'd like me to try writing._


	14. Scintillating

_Spoiler alert: If you haven't watched the season finale and are steering clear of any spoilers, please come back to this chapter. _

_A/N: The feminist in me wants Brennan to propose, but the who-doesn't-want-a-honking-diamond-on-her-finger girl in me wants her to get a sparkly ring. This satisfies both of those elements. (And then there's the whole "Booth has proposed to two other women — why he can't propose to Brennan!?" thing.)_

_Disclaimer: I don't own Bones._

* * *

"What's this about, Angela?"

Staring into her steaming coffee mug, the artist slowly looked up into Booth's gaze. "Brennan still wants to marry you."

"Well, that makes two of us."

"Are you going to ask her?"

Booth remained silent for nearly half a minute, and then finally sighed. "I don't know."

"You don't know?" Angela stared at Booth like he had three heads.

"I don't know what she wants. Initially our deal was that she was going to propose. Then everything happened and …" Booth hesitated. "And now I don't know."

"Do you want to marry her?"

"God, yes."

"Good." Angela nodded. "I'm going to help you out here on condition that you don't break my confidence." She held out her fist.

"What?"

"I have a toddler, as do you. You know how this works. Haven't you covered the fist bump thing with Christine?"

"Bones is more into teaching pinky swears …"

Angela huffed. "Do you want help or not?"

"Yes, yes," Booth quickly corrected himself. "Handshake?"

"That'll work." Angela extended her hand and firmly shook Booth's hand. "Brennan's going to ask you again."

"How do you know?"

"You don't get to ask that question. I am in charge of the information here."

"Right." Booth nodded. "Sorry."

"Look, I don't know when or how she's going to do it, but it's going to happen. And I assume you're saying yes when it does happen."

"Of course."

"Good." Angela paused. "Now, there's the issue of the ring."

"She's giving me a ring?"

Angela rolled her eyes. "Traditionally speaking, the man is the one who presents the woman with the ring. And you are a man of tradition."

"Forget the fact that Bones is the one doing the proposing, which is extremely untraditional. Even though I want to give her a ring, I still don't know when it's happening."

"And that is where I come into play." Angela smiled. "I'm telling you that she's going to ask you. I'm also telling you that you need to get on it with ring shopping."

"And carry it around with me all the time for whenever she pops the question?"

"Nah." Angela paused. "I'm fairly certain I can get her to tell me when she's going to do it. You buy that ring and give it to me. I'll make sure it gets to where it needs to be for the proposal."

"And you're sure she wants a ring with the proposal?"

"Booth." Angela groaned. "Every woman wants a ring with a proposal. Even Brennan. She might never admit it, but she does. Besides, this allows you to get your little traditional element into the proposal. She'll catch you off guard by proposing, and you'll catch her off guard by having a ring on hand."

"That actually sounds reasonable."

She wrinkled her nose. "That was a Brennan line, but whatever. I'll let it slide. And Booth?"

"Yeah?"

"Whatever you're visualizing for that ring — double it. She deserves the biggest rock you can find. I don't care if you have to take out a loan for it. Do it."

* * *

Three weeks later, Booth walked into Angela's office and slipped her a ring box.

"Well, it's about damn time," she complained. "I was starting to wonder if you had chickened out."

"I had it designed," he explained. "I went straight to a jewelers the day that we had coffee. Drew up a design and placed the order. And then it took me a while to verify that the diamonds they used were fair trade."

"Wait. Diamonds … as in the plural form of the word?" Angela glanced around her to make sure they were in the clear and then opened the box. "Oh Booth."

"I was going to ask what you thought."

"Booth, this is incredible."

"You're sure?"

"Yes! I take back everything I said about it taking you too long." She looked up at him with a happy smile. "This is perfect. You might actually make her cry."

"It's shaped that way so it doesn't snag as much on her gloves," Booth explained.

"It's perfect. You thought of everything." Angela gazed at the ring. "Damn, how many carats is this?"

"Not enough."

"You're right — there aren't enough carats in the world for someone like Bren." Angela smiled. "You're a good man, Booth. She's going to love it. You did well."

"Thanks."

"I can't wait to see this on her finger."

"Me neither," he admitted. "Any chance of it happening soon?"

"You know I can't tell you that."

* * *

The long-anticipated vacation had been spectacular. As promised, Brennan had found paradise with the beach, fishing, swimming, scuba diving, and history … lots and lots of history.

It was their second to last day in Tho Chu, and Brennan had only planned two things — a fancy dinner out and watching a meteor shower post-dinner. Much to Booth's delight, he was able to get her to agree to a day of lying on the beach with fruity drinks, sunshine, cooling off in the ocean, and long naps.

"Hey." Brennan leaned over to whisper into Booth's ear. "I'm going up to the room to get ready. Don't feel obligated to get up."

He cracked open one eye, and seeing the eyeful of cleavage in front of him, he quickly blinked and kept his eyes open. Brennan chuckled and shook her head. "You act like you've never seen my chest before."

"It's a whole different story when you wear a bikini, Bones. Trust me, if you could see yourself in that thing, you'd stare, too."

A satisfied smile spread across her face. "I'm glad you appreciate it."

"Why are you going up? Sun's still out." He reached for her hand. "Come on, watch the sunset with me."

"If I watch the sunset with you, we'll completely miss our dinner reservation. I need time to get ready for tonight." She gave him a quick kiss. "You enjoy the beach a little while longer, and I'll see you in a bit."

He gave her a curious look. "You dressing up or something?"

"Yes." She gave him a teasing smile. "As are you."

"Suit?"

She nodded.

"In this heat?"

"I promise, I'll make it worth your while."

He knew he was helpless to argue against her, especially knowing she always delivered on her promises. He sat up from his beach chair and returned the kiss. "See you a little while."

* * *

He splashed water on his face, rinsing off the last of the shaving cream. As he patted his face dry, he glanced over his shoulder at Brennan, who was sitting cross-legged in a robe by the full-length mirror, putting the finishing touches on her eye makeup.

"What time is our reservation?"

"Seven."

"You going to be ready by then? I don't see your dress."

"Don't worry." Brennan nodded her head toward the closet. "It's in there."

"We've only got twenty minutes."

"And the place is just down the street." She smiled at him sweetly, as if she knew something he didn't. "As soon as you're finished in the bathroom, I'll put on my dress."

"Do you want help?"

She shook her head. "No, thank you."

"OK, I'm finished. Just going to put on my button up and tie and I'll be good to go."

"And your suit jacket."

He sighed, but gave Brennan a smile. "Yeah. Only because you insist."

"Will you wear the gray tie?"

"Uh, sure. Are we matching or something?" Booth asked suspiciously.

"No, I just like it," she admitted, standing up and closing her makeup bag. She reached for the garment bag in the closet and stepped toward the bathroom, looking up when Booth's hand grazed her cheek.

"I haven't seen this dress, have I?"

Slowly, she shook her head.

"I swear, woman, you're constantly trying to think of new and more creative ways to kill me," he muttered.

Giving Booth a wicked grin and a wink, Brennan headed into the bathroom. "Be right out."

Deciding to forego the undershirt with the hot temperature, Booth buttoned up his pressed white shirt and tied his necktie. He went ahead and put on the jacket, then went to stand by the air conditioning unit. No sooner had he finished than the bathroom door opened just a crack.

"Close your eyes."

"What?"

"I forgot my shoes, and I want them on before you see me. Close your eyes," came Brennan's persistent instructions.

He sighed, but did so, and he heard the gentle pad of her bare feet going to the closet. A moment later, he felt the telltale pound of heels coming to his side of the room, then a gentle pull on his tie.

"Open your eyes."

Booth's eyes opened, and he let them rove up and down, giving his partner a full once-over. The deep turquoise satin dress clung to Brennan's body, flaunting all her curves in just the right places. Accented by the dress's low v-neckline, a diamond pendant hung from her neck, plunging deep into her chest, resting just above her cleavage line. Her trim waist was accented, due to the tight band of oversized stones and delicate embroidery cinching in her well-endowed chest. As she stepped to the side ever so slightly, one of her shapely legs, clad with a three-inch stiletto heel, extended from the nearly thigh-high slit.

"Well? What do you think?" Brennan asked with a grin, uncharacteristically spinning around to show off the rest.

Booth's only coherent thought was, _"Oh God. It's backless."_

The dress was indeed, backless — very much so. Save for the slight band of material around Brennan's neck holding up her dress, her entire back was exposed, until the dress resumed in a slight v right on the small of her lower back.

With her back still turned to him, Brennan glanced over her shoulder, giving Booth an inquisitive look as she slightly frowned. "You're not saying anything."

Booth swallowed, realizing he had let his thoughts keep him quiet. "Bones, it looks … you look incredible." He paused. "Stunning, actually. You look stunning. You are so beautiful."

She still looked apprehensive. "Really?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure? Is it too much? I know it's kind of revealing, but it's still elegant, right? Angela insisted I buy it — she said it looked perfect in all the right places, and I didn't even have to get it altered at all. I know it's straying from what I normally wear, but I wanted something special. I can go change…"

"Don't even think about it. Don't you dare change." He reached for her hand and pulled her into his chest, placing a firm kiss to her lips. "You look phenomenal. You are gorgeous and classy and hot and I'm going to spend all night beating away all the men who are going to be drooling over you. Hell, maybe I should even wear my gun."

A pleased flush covered her cheeks. "We should get to dinner."

"Yeah." He grinned. "I can't wait to show you off."

She swatted at him playfully. "Stop."

"You wear a dress like that, and you better believe I'm going all alpha male on you, baby. And you love it. Don't deny it."

* * *

Dinner was 'glorious,' according to Booth, and Brennan couldn't help but agree. They were able to secure a table on the patio, which faced the beach. As the sun started to go down, Brennan glanced around the area. "Are you finished, or do you want dessert?"

"I'm pleasantly full. Probably shouldn't attempt dessert yet."

"Then we'll get a bottle of wine and walk to the beach for sunset. Sound acceptable?"

He nodded with a smile. "Perfect."

After paying the bill, Booth accepted the bottle of wine and glasses from their waiter. He held Brennan's hand as they strolled to the beach.

"The sand won't ruin your dress, will it?"

She shook her head. "Nothing a little dry cleaning can't fix."

"Good. I really don't want to see that dress ruined."

Brennan laughed and squeezed his hand in response. The two strolled quietly along the beach, hand in hand, until Brennan turned toward Booth, stopping their walk. "I," she paused, clearly hesitant, "I have a confession."

"OK."

"There's no meteor shower tonight."

"Oh?" He raised an eyebrow.

"It's tomorrow. I just said that in order to guarantee us getting to the beach tonight."

"I'd go to the beach with you anytime you want to, Bones. Meteor shower or no meteor shower. You know that."

"I know. It just seemed to make sense at the time."

He smiled. "You're nervous about something."

"What?"

"You're doing your nervous smile."

"Am not."

"Oh, you definitely are." He grinned.

"Booth." She paused. "I had a lot of things I wanted to say, but there's really only one important thing now." She looked him straight in the eye. "I love you, and I want to marry you. And everything I said the first time — I still mean it this time."

Before Brennan could utter her question, Booth cupped her face in his hands and kissed her lips. "Yes."

"But I haven't even asked …"

"Last time, it took me entirely too long to say something." He grinned and kissed her again. "Not making that mistake again. You OK with that?"

"Yes," she whispered, leaning to kiss him. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

She laughed. "I don't know that I've ever seen you smile this way."

"Get used to it, baby." He widened his grin and winked. "I'm gonna be grinning like an idiot for the next six months until we say 'I do.'"

"Six months? I was hoping we could get married a little bit sooner … Booth!" she laughed, as Booth picked her up and spun her around before kissing her again.

"Yeah, I think that's just fine." His phone chirped, and Brennan glanced at him curiously. "Just going to make sure everything's OK back home," he assured her as he reached into his pocket. He squinted at the bright screen as he read the words, _"Hope I didn't screw up the timing — congratulations. Before you get that dress off Brennan and have your way with her, check the dress, dead center of the front panel in the bottom hem. And no, she doesn't know it's there. Love you both and congrats from Hodgins and me."_

"Who is it?" Brennan asked, leaning toward Booth's screen.

"Work." Booth quickly pocketed his phone. "Idiots forgot I'm on vacation."

She smiled. "We should celebrate."

"Hell yeah." Booth dug around in his other pocket, retrieving his pocketknife. "This should do the trick for the wine." He shed his jacket and spread it out on the sand.

"You'll ruin your jacket."

"Nah. And better that than your dress."

She shrugged and sat down, pulling the glasses out of the bag as Booth worked on the wine.

"Hey Bones. Close your eyes."

"What?"

"Humor me."

As she did so, Brennan felt an ever so slight brush against her ankle. "Booth, you cannot strip me naked on the beach. There are people here."

"As tempting as that is, that's not what I'm doing."

"Then what are you … are you …" Her words stopped as she heard a slight rip and felt a tiny pull. "Booth!"

"No peeking." Holding the ring between his thumb and index finger, he reached for one of Brennan's hands. "I have a question for you."

"May I open my eyes?"

"After I ask my question, yes, you can open your eyes." He took a deep breath and leaned closer. "Temperance, will you marry me?"

Her eyes flew open, and she stared at him in confusion for a second. "Yes, of course." Then she looked at his kneeling posture and the ring in his right hand. "Oh my god. Booth."

"Second question: may I put this on your finger?"

She nodded, wide-eyed and speechless as she watched him. "How … Booth. Oh, it's beautiful." She watched as he wiggled the ring onto her finger. "You … but how did you know?"

"I didn't," he admitted. "I had some help."

Brennan immediately looked disappointed. "Angela told you I was going to propose?"

He shook his head. "She didn't tell me. She just took care of the ring. Gave it to her almost two months ago."

Placing her newly jeweled hand on Booth's face, Brennan leaned to kiss him deeply. "Thank you. But I don't have one for you."

"You're not supposed to." He laughed. "You give me one when we get married. And I give you another one then, too."

Brennan's phone chimed, and she rolled her eyes without even glancing at it. "Looks like I owe my matron of honor a phone call and a thank you for her seamstress skills. She's been texting me all day."

"Does Hodgins know?"

"Absolutely not. I made her swear not to tell. I don't know how she managed to keep it a secret for six days."

"She can wait a little while longer." Booth leaned to grab the glasses.

As Booth poured the wine, Brennan examined her left hand and grinned happily as she wiggled her ring finger. "It's scintillating."

"What?"

"The ring!"

"Sparkly, Bones. The word you're looking for is 'sparkly.'"

* * *

_Another long one. Hope y'all don't mind. :)_

_UPDATED - fact check note: When I first posted this, I wasn't 100 percent sure that I got the vacation location correct. And turns out, I didn't — but thankfully, ratgirl71 knew the correct name of the island! Thank you._

_As always, thank you so much for your reviews. I'm catching up with them as we speak. (New job and a 3-hour round trip commute to and from work is killing me. Please pardon my lack of updates and responses.) If you've got anything you'd like to see, let me know._


	15. The Visit

_A/N: This chapter jumps back to the end of season 7/beginning of season 8 where Brennan is on the run. _

_alexindigo asked me a while back to write a Zack chapter. I've never written one before, but I'm always willing to try new things for writing … let me know what y'all think! _

_Disclaimer: I don't own Bones._

* * *

"Took me freaking forever to get in here. What'd you do, man?"

"Hi to you, too."

"Hey man. Sorry." Hodgins rolled his eyes and gave Zack a fist bump. "Geez, I didn't realize you were all sensitive about it."

"About what?"

"Whatever it is that you did."

Zack gave Hodgins a curious look. "I don't follow your logic."

"Look, first they told me you weren't accepting visitors."

Zack frowned. "That's not true."

"I know," Hodgins continued, "and then they fingerprinted me, asked me questions, searched my bag, put me through two metal detectors, gave me a pat down, and questioned me again before they let me in here. And I only get five minutes with you. Obviously they've tightened security on you. My logical conclusion is that you did something to make that happen."

"While I now understand your conclusion, it's not accurate."

"Then do tell what happened."

Glancing around the room, Zack looked over at the guard. "Permission to go outside?"

The guard shook his head.

"Really?"

"Don't push it, Addy." The guard's tone was firm.

"I don't understand." Zack hesitated, and then paused. "Oh."

"'Oh,' what?"

"I think I might understand."

"Understand what?"

"Why we can't go outside and why there is extra security."

Again, Hodgins rolled his eyes. "Care to explain to me?"

"I'd almost like to make you figure it out by yourself. It's fun watching you try."

"Fine," Hodgins huffed. "I'll just go ahead and say it. You're king."

Zack gave a slight smile at Hodgins's pronouncement. "Thank you."

"Now, tell me what you figured out."

"Obviously, they're concerned that I might be Dr. Brennan's next target."

Eyes narrowing, Hodgins stared Zack down, clenching one fist tightly. "You take that back right now."

"I'm saying it from their perspective, not mine," Zack quickly clarified. "They simply view me as a valid next target."

"So you don't think Dr. B killed Ethan Sawyer."

He shook his head. "Of course not."

"Good. Continue."

"Like Dr. Sawyer, I am also highly intelligent, rational, and good at puzzles, especially the kind that …" Zack trailed off hesitantly, hesitant to say Pelant's name out loud.

"Yeah, got it." Hodgins paused. "So they think the suspect or Dr. B might be coming to see you next?"

"It's a logical conclusion."

"Well, she as hell isn't coming to whack you."

"I know that."

"Good, just making sure that's crystal clear. Got another question. Why didn't she come see you first?"

Zack sighed.

"Zack?"

"I don't know."

"She ask you anything about it?"

Zack's silence didn't give anything away, but Hodgins changed his question. "When's the last time you saw her?"

"Three months ago."

"That was before … everything."

Zack nodded.

"So she didn't ask you anything."

Again, Zack nodded.

"Why'd she go to Ethan instead of you?"

"Perhaps Dr. Sawyer is smarter than me."

"Debatable. You're in the stratosphere." Hodgins paused.

"Dr. Sawyer is very intelligent. While I haven't read all of his work, I can understand Dr. Brennan's decision to consult with him."

"That bother you that she tried him instead of you?"

"I'm sure she had a logical explanation for going to him."

"Yeah, I'm sure she did."

The two were silent for nearly a minute, until Zack finally broke the silence. "How's work?"

"A little tense." Hodgins paused. "Actually, a lot tense. Angie's wiped out. She's not sleeping more than three or four hours a night. Cam's on edge, Clark is pulling long hours, the interns don't know what to do with themselves, the security guards are paranoid. It's a nightmare."

"How's Agent Booth?"

"Hating being off the case. Missing Dr. B and Christine. Struggling with why things happened this way."

Zack shrugged. "Kids make it complicated."

"What?"

"Kids make it complicated," Zack repeated. "That's something Dr. Brennan told me a long time ago. I've found it to be true."

"I'd agree with her. It's good, but it's definitely complicated."

"Mr. Addy?" The guard interrupted the conversation, pointing to the clock on the wall. "Time's up."

Zack frowned. "How long will it be before I can get normal visiting times again?"

The guard shrugged.

"Hey, Zack?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't take this the wrong way, but I'm sure as hell glad that Dr. B went to Ethan and not you."

Zack followed Hodgins's line of reasoning. "Because you think I'd be dead if she had visited with me instead of Dr. Sawyer. The … suspect … would have come after me."

Hodgins nodded.

"That thought has crossed my mind as well."

"Glad you're OK, Z-man. If all this extra security keeps you safe, then so be it." Hodgins gave Zack a reassuring clap on the shoulder. "Angela says hi."

"Please return the greeting."

"Will do. Stay safe, buddy."

* * *

_Since this is my first time attempting Zack, I'd really love to hear what you think. I know there's a huge Zack fan club out there._

_Bonus points if you can tell me which episode includes the line, "Kids make it complicated." :)_

_As always, thank you for reading._


	16. What Didn't Happen: Part I

_Y'all. It has been one heck of a week with work, and it's not even Wednesday. So, I figured I'd pull out something written a while ago, edit it, and post — nothing better than a little readin', writin', and editin' to cure what ails ya, right?_

_This chapter assumes that "The Future in the Past" episode (season 8 premiere) never happened (thus the name of this chapter). Side note: I love that episode and wouldn't change it! I wrote this way before that episode aired but was skittish about posting it._

_(Oh, and shout out to Covalent Bond and chosenname for winning the bonus points from the question I asked in the last chapter. Y'all are great and know your season 1 episodes!)_

_Disclaimer: I don't own Bones._

* * *

Hot, fast tears began to roll down her cheeks before she even pulled into the driveway. She was thankful Christine was still asleep and glad that she was at least in their neighborhood so she could navigate despite her wet eyes.

As she turned into their street, the knot in her stomach seemed to double. Would he be unbearably angry? Would he be OK while her dyed red hair grew out of its color and shorter length? Would Christine cry when he held her again? Would he adjust to having them back again?

Consumed by her thoughts, she missed the mailbox marking their house and had to back up to pull into the driveway. By now, sobs accompanied her tears. She knew she would be glad to see him, but she was so worried about how he would respond. She leaned onto the steering wheel and let herself weep quietly.

With her head down, she missed seeing his face in the window and seeing him run to the front door. She missed him flinging it open, jumping down the steps, and sprinting towards the car.

She didn't hear him yelling "Bones!" as he approached, running full speed to the driver's side door.

She didn't even hear the car door open and barely registered feeling a hand on her shoulder.

"Oh baby, please don't cry."

She was so startled that she didn't feel him lifting her out of the driver's seat, pulling her into his arms. He wrapped his arms around her tightly, almost making it hard for her to breathe, but she didn't notice.

_He felt so damn good. _

"Shhhhh." He soothed, stroking her hair as she buried her face in his chest.

"S-s-so-sorry," she stuttered through her sobs.

"Don't." He pressed a kiss to her forehead, pulling her tighter into his arms. He felt her clinging to him, running her fingers all over his chest and back, as if to assure herself that he was really there.

Finally, she let out a deep, shuddering breath, and Booth realized how hard his grip was on her. He loosened just slightly, and she looked up at him tearfully.

"I'm not letting go," he promised. "I'm not mad."

"I know," she whispered, rising up on her toes just slightly.

He met her, leaning in for their first kiss in months. It took her seconds to begin to cry again, but she quickly controlled herself, reaching for his shirt and fisting it tightly before he could pull away to ask if she was all right.

They finally broke apart, chests heaving as they both sucked in deep breaths, tears in their eyes, still clinging to each other.

"I cannot tell you …" She swallowed the lump in her throat and willed her tearful voice to stay strong. " … how much I have missed you — we have missed you. I am … so sorry. Please forgive me."

"Stop." His hand stroked her cheek gently. "You did what you had to."

"I …"

He cut her off, putting a finger to her lips. "Bones, we will talk about all of this, but not tonight. You are showering, eating, and going to bed with me. That's all that's on the agenda tonight."

She nodded. "How … did you know I was coming home?"

"They jailed Pelant yesterday, so I figured you'd be home soon."

"But it's not over."

"Caroline says he's going away for life. We're not talking about it tonight, but let's just say we've got him." He kissed the top of her head. "I know your dad has been keeping tabs on the case. I haven't been helping, but God knows Max has his ways. What did he tell you?"

"He woke me early this morning and told me it was safe."

He eyed her suspiciously. "When did you leave?"

"Doesn't matter."

"No, that does matter. How long have you been driving? When did you leave?"

"Five this morning."

Booth quickly did the math, shaking his head at how long she had been driving. "From where?"

"A very small town close to Birmingham."

"You've been in Alabama this whole time?"

She shook her head. "We were there less than a week. I'll tell you more about our travels later. Surely I'll have to debrief at the FBI."

"Still working on all that."

She looked at him anxiously. "Am I in trouble for fleeing?"

"Once Caroline works her magic, you shouldn't be."

"I should have waited a little longer." She sniffed. "I found that I just couldn't wait to see you."

"We're going to be fine. And you definitely made the right decision by coming home now." He kissed her reassuringly and grabbed her hand, gently pulling away from her as he opened the backseat door.

"Hopefully she's still asleep."

"She is." Booth bent inside the car, placing a quick kiss on his daughter's forehead before unsnapping the car seat out. "Wow. She's heavier."

Brennan smiled. "She eats like you do."

"Good. Glad she doesn't have her momma's terrible eating habits."

* * *

Brennan scrubbed her scalp hard, trying in vain to work the color out of her short hair under the pulsing water of the shower. She had only dyed it about two weeks ago, and she knew the semi-permanent dye wouldn't come out for another week or two.

She walked to the bedroom in a towel, pausing for a minute to glance around the room. Nothing had changed — except for a few extra stacks of papers on the bedside table and one of Christine's blankets placed near her pillow.

She opened the dresser and smiled to see her familiar clothes. She reached for underwear, and then opened the next drawer to steal one of Booth's t-shirts. She inhaled the scent as she pushed it over her head.

As she walked out of their bedroom, she stopped to glance in the nursery. Booth had placed Christine in her crib, and had the sound machine going. The nightlight was on, and Christine was sound asleep.

"We're home," Brennan whispered as she leaned to kiss her daughter goodnight. "Please sleep hard tonight."

* * *

The aroma of garlic, butter, and bread greeted Brennan as she walked down the stairs.

"Hey." Booth turned around, hearing her bare feet padding around the kitchen floor. "Feel better?"

"Yes." She wrapped her arms around him, inhaling deeply.

"Hungry?"

"A little."

"Good, because you're eating. You got skinny."

"I lost all my baby weight."

"You look like you quit eating," he accused.

"So do you."

Booth turned off the stove and turned around. "Truce."

She nodded. "But I did eat. Had to feed Christine."

"I believe you."

The two ate quietly, choosing to cozy up on the couch instead of sitting at their table. As Booth finished a second helping of pasta, Brennan stole several sips of his beer.

"She's saying your name now."

Booth turned to look at her. "What?"

"Christine. She's saying 'Dada' now."

"She is?"

Brennan nodded with a smile, watching as Booth's face lit up. "Hopefully she will start saying it to you and recognizing it as your moniker." She paused, biting her lip. "She used to say it when I held up your photo, but Dad made me get rid of it."

"That's understandable." Booth put his plate down, settling back into the couch and stroking Brennan's hair.

"I'm calling Angela tomorrow to get my hair fixed. She goes to a good salon."

Booth laughed. "It's OK."

"I hate it."

"Have you been a red head this whole time?"

"No, only a couple weeks. I did a wash-out black dye first."

"Still beautiful." Booth leaned over to kiss her.

Instantly, Brennan climbed into his lap, running her fingers through his hair, and gasping as he gently palmed and stroked her chest. Her hands roamed under his shirt, feeling his hard and familiar muscles.

"Bones," he groaned between kisses. "Don't get me wrong, I want to … but you're exhausted. We're exhausted."

"I know." She planted another kiss on his lips, lingering for a moment. "Just need to feel you."

He nodded, allowing his hands to wander under her shirt up her spine. "Let's go to bed."

They left the dishes on the coffee table and walked upstairs, hands joined. They brushed their teeth and washed their faces, and Brennan went to check on Christine one last time. She crawled into bed, nestled herself into Booth's embrace, and allowed him to tuck the sheets up around her shoulders.

"I love you," she whispered.

"Love you, too." He dropped a sweet kiss on her lips. "Sleep, and don't even think about turning on that alarm."

* * *

_Oh hey … there's going to be a part two. :)_

_Reviews would make this oh-so-long workweek a lot better, and they would help me know if y'all want to read part two. Just saying. :) _


	17. What Didn't Happen: Part II

_This is part 2 - if you missed part 1, please hit the back arrow and catch up!_

_Disclaimer: I don't own Bones._

* * *

Just two hours later, Brennan awoke to being slightly jostled. "Don't leave," she murmured drowsily, reaching for Booth's arm.

"Getting the baby." Booth was already out of the bed before Brennan could catch him.

"Booth, she …"

"I know. I'm bringing her straight to you."

She hoped their daughter wouldn't be frightened when Booth picked her up. Christine hadn't seen hardly anyone except Max and herself for several months, a decision that Brennan deeply regretted, but one that had been necessary. Reaching for the video monitor, she watched as Booth entered Christine's room and leaned over her crib to pick her up.

"Hi sweetheart. It's Daddy." He caressed her forehead.

Brennan's heart ached, listening to Booth's soothing tone as he attempted to calm Christine's wails.

"Hey. Shhhhh. I know, don't worry … I'm taking you to Mommy. I just wanted to come get you tonight. I've missed you so much." Booth reached for a pacifier and a blanket, and then disappeared from the monitor screen.

As Booth walked back into their bedroom with their fussy daughter, Brennan smiled. "Christine," she crooned softly. "Did Daddy come get you? Do you remember? He used to do this almost every night."

Booth watched as his daughter immediately turned towards Brennan's voice. "She knows you."

"She'll remember you soon. See, she's already calming down. You did great talking with her first."

He sat back down in bed, cradling Christine as she squirmed and reached for Brennan.

"Just a minute, baby girl." Brennan completely slipped out of Booth's borrowed t-shirt, watching as Booth raised an eyebrow. "I've learned that she does better if I'm not wearing anything. She'll play with the shirt and not nurse very well."

"I'm not complaining." He gave her a wink. "Skin to skin feels good. She's no fool."

"Here." Brennan reached to take Christine. "Move a little so I can lean up against your chest. That way she can see both of us."

Booth sat up straight against the headboard, helping Brennan sit up and lean against his chest. He placed one arm under hers, helping her support Christine.

"Look at those big eyes. You are wide awake." Brennan let out a relieved sigh as Christine latched, stilling her movements and placing one of her tiny hands against Brennan's breast.

"Is she normally this awake?"

Brennan shook her head. "She didn't eat well today. Hopefully she'll nurse well and sleep late." She smiled as Booth caressed her neck. "Mmm. That feels nice … you really should talk to Christine … she's … quite attentive while she's … ohhhh … nursing."

"Shhh." Booth planted a kiss on Brennan's lips, grinning at the affect his ministrations had on her. "I remember how this goes. If I talk to Christine, you stay awake. If I don't, sometimes you fall asleep."

"I don't fall asleep …"

"You doze." Booth smiled. "And I'm here holding you, so it's not dangerous. And you look exhausted."

"I am," Brennan admitted, leaning back further into Booth's chest. "She hasn't slept well in days."

"I'll get up with her if she's awake again."

"Unfortunately, she's not overly fond of bottles right now. But I appreciate the offer." Brennan's eyes closed. "Don't let me fall asleep … she has to switch sides in a few minutes or I'll be sore."

Booth watched his daughter, who was still wide-eyed and looking straight at her daddy. "Hey baby girl. I love you so, so much, and I am so glad you're home. But you know what? After you're finished eating, it would be so great if you let Mommy and I sleep tonight…"

"Mommy and me," Brennan corrected Booth's grammar drowsily.

"Right." Booth bent to kiss Christine's head. "So we agree? You'll sleep tonight?"

Christine answered him with a blink.

"Good. Thanks, baby girl." He watched her for a few more minutes, grateful to see Christine's eyelids beginning to droop just slightly. "Bones?"

No response.

"Bones."

Still silence.

Booth planted a lingering kiss on his partner's cheek. "Temperance."

"Shhh."

"Switch sides."

"Mmm."

"Baby, switch or you'll be mad at me in the morning."

"Couldn't … be mad."

"That's sweet." Booth smiled. "But you will be because you'll be sore."

"You switch her."

He shook his head, hiding a grin. "You gotta help me out here."

In an obviously well practiced move, Brennan sighed and quickly slid Christine to the other side.

"See, that wasn't hard."

"So tired."

"I know. Don't worry, I made a pact with Christine. She's letting us sleep as long as we need to tomorrow."

A hint of a smile crossed Brennan's face as she sighed. "That's … nice."

* * *

After both of his girls had fallen asleep, Booth took Christine back to her room, promising to buy her whatever she wanted if she would just sleep until 8.

He went back to bed, content to lie down next to Brennan, who instinctively sought out his body heat until she had her head close to his chest.

Booth slept with one arm tightly around Brennan, clenching the baby monitor in the other hand. He hadn't slept that well in months.

* * *

When the baby didn't keep up her end of the bargain, Booth silenced the monitor and slipped out of bed, placing an extra pillow under Brennan's head. He changed a fussy, wide-awake Christine and soothed her with the help of a pacifier, taking her to the kitchen.

"Gotta take a bottle. I know Mom said you don't like them, but I'm not waking her up." Booth measured out the formula, added filtered water, and quickly shook it up. He sat down at the table and attempted to feed Christine, who stubbornly refused it.

"Mom was right — you still only want the good stuff. Guess you'll take it if you're hungry enough. That reminds me…" Booth stood up again, reaching for a box on the counter. "Want to try cereal?"

He mixed up a tiny amount of the baby cereal, watching as the sound and light of the microwave temporarily memorized Christine. "Here we go." Booth set Christine in his lap. "We need a high chair for you, baby girl. You're getting big. Guess I'll have to find ours before lunchtime today."

Booth tested the temperature of the cereal, and determining it to be suitable, he cautiously placed the spoon by his daughter's lips. "Open, Christine. Yummy."

Reluctantly, Christine opened her mouth, eyes widening as Booth placed a spoonful in her mouth.

"Yay, good girl," he encouraged, smiling as he looked at her confused face. "Don't spit it out, it's yummy. Want more?" He added a little bit more to her mouth. "Look at you eating like a big girl. You can thank Aunt Angela for going grocery shopping for you."

* * *

Brennan woke to find the other side of the bed cool and empty. She reached for the monitor, finding that it had been turned off. She slowly stretched and pulled herself out of bed.

She made her way downstairs, stopping just before she hit the last step. A smile crossed her face as she watched her two favorite people interact.

"Geez, I don't know if Aunt Angela just made a mistake or if you don't like this stuff!" Booth lifted another spoonful to Christine's mouth, and she nibbled at it, then stuck out her tongue. "Come on, you liked it a few minutes ago. Please?"

Christine's fingers reached for the spoon, and she promptly raised her cereal-covered hand to coat her hair with the new food.

Booth groaned. "I should have known you were going to try that. How about yogurt — want to try some of that?" He stood and walked over to the fridge, catching a glimpse of Brennan. "Hey."

She smiled, rounding the corner and walking into the kitchen. "You let me sleep late."

"You needed it." He opened the fridge, and pulled out a small container. "Hope it's OK for me to be feeding her. I don't want to mess up any routine ..."

Brennan silenced him with a quick kiss. "It's perfect. A new routine is good."

"You sure?" He pulled off the yogurt lid, stirring it with the tiny pink spoon.

She nodded. "I want to wake up to this every morning."

"Good." Booth dropped a kiss on her forehead before sitting back to feed Christine. "Me too."

* * *

_As always, thanks for reading. Love to hear what you think._

_And unrelated side note, I'm having a really hard time doing my follow-up to the Twister chapter (chapter 9). Did not expect it to be so hard! Anyone got any ideas, suggestions, prompts, positive thoughts to send me on that? It needs to be written …_


	18. Screw Twister

_A/N: Finally — the requested sequel to chapter 9. Please go read that one first if you haven't done so already. (Or hey, feel free to go read it again. It's a quick read.) Shout out to all of you who left me requests for this chapter. (See your shout outs at the bottom of this chapter!)_

_There's an important poll at the end of the chapter, so even if you don't want to review, please leave a vote! _

_Also, I want someone to pick up where I left off from this chapter. If you're an M writer, I'm calling your name. :) See the note at the end of the chapter for details._

_Disclaimer: I don't own Bones._

* * *

"I have part of Bren's birthday present in the car. Booth, you're in charge of making sure she doesn't see it."

"But my birthday isn't for another month," Brennan remarked.

Angela shrugged with a happy grin. "What can I say … I love birthdays and am all for starting the celebrationing early. Come on, Booth, walk me out so I can give it to you."

As Booth followed Angela outside to the Jeffersonian parking garage, she eagerly explained the present. "So remember how I told you a few weeks ago that Brennan has never played Twister?"

"Yeah?"

"I got you one."

"Oh. Thank you."

"And I modified it."

Immediately, Booth was suspicious. "How so?"

"Well, the traditional game has the board with a spinner. That's really impractical for just two people playing the game, so I wired it to be electronic." Having reached her car, Angela opened the door and pulled out the box, lifting the lid to reveal her creation. "See? You flip this switch right here and it starts calling out assignments."

"Left foot on red," the electronic box chirped.

"That's impressive, Angela."

She shrugged. "Ours does it, too. Figured I would share the wealth. Oh … and may I suggest adding alcohol?"

"Yeah, that's a given."

Angela grinned conspiratorially. "You two are going to have fun."

"Hell yeah."

* * *

"I'm going to win."

Booth shook his head as he sipped his post-dinner whiskey. "You are always so confident, aren't you?"

"Well, I am much more flexible than you."

"Oh trust me, I know. And I'm so very thankful for it." He laughed as Brennan swatted at his arm playfully. "But you've never played this game before."

"With beginner's luck and my flexibility, there's no way I can lose. And I have a disturbingly steep learning curve."

"True."

"You're going down, Agent Booth," she teased.

"Bring it on, Dr. Brennan."

"You know," Brennan mused as she looked at the Twister box, "it would probably be much easier to play this game without clothes."

"God, Bones, are you trying to kill me?"

"Well, I'm changing out of my jeans. You can change, too," she offered, unbuttoning her jeans and slipping out of them right there in the den, leaving her in a blouse and panties.

Booth took a step closer to Brennan and reached for her arm. "If you don't put clothes on, I'm taking you right here and now," he warned. "Screw Twister."

Her eyebrows went up and she gave him a suggestive smile. "Oh, I don't think you mean that."

"I do."

"I don't want you screwing Twister. I want you screwing me." Brennan almost looked triumphant as her blunt words made Booth lose his train of thought. "Later. After I beat you in Twister." She smirked as she headed for the stairs. "I'm going to put on something more comfortable. Be right back."

* * *

Realizing it wouldn't be prudent to attempt Twister in his dress pants, Booth went to his duffel bag by the back door to pull out a clean pair of gym shorts. As he slipped off his tie and worked on the buttons of his dress shirt, he glanced up to see Brennan coming back from their bedroom.

"You look surprised," she remarked, going straight to the kitchen to top off her margarita from the pitcher in the fridge. "But I'm not sure why."

"I just figured you'd put on some of those tight yoga pants."

"Nope." She smiled. "Shorts are just fine, don't you think?"

"Yeah." He swallowed as he watched her stroll back into the den. "I don't think I've seen those before."

"You haven't." Brennan reached to turn the switch on the Twister caller.

Booth quickly figured out why he hadn't seen that particular pair of shorts until now. The minute the electronic caller announced, "Right hand on green," Brennan bent over without hesitation to place her hand on the right color, leaving her backside in Booth's clear viewing range.

"Wow, Bones, those are short."

"Yes."

"And tight. Definitely tight."

"That's why you haven't seen them before. They're not particularly suitable for running."

"But they're perfectly suitable for trying to seduce your partner," Booth muttered.

Brennan pointed to the remaining row of green spots on the Twister mat, wagging her finger at Booth sassily. "Come on, you heard the instructions. Right hand on green."

"Geez, can't I refill my drink, too?"

"Fine." She shrugged and reached for the caller. "I'll pause it and we can start together."

"Sounds good." Booth reached for the bottle of whiskey, then put it back, going to the fridge instead for the margarita pitcher. "How strong did you make these?"

Her answer was a smirk and a laugh.

"Yeah, that's what I figured. Sounds good." He dug around in the cabinet for another glass. "You, me, and tequila have a great track record."

Brennan rolled her eyes. "I know what that means."

"And you disagree?"

"The last time we both attempted tequila, you nearly assaulted me."

He looked at her indignantly. "I did not!"

"Even Fisher noticed the hickey on my neck and the bruise on my arm the next day."

"The bruise was because you're a klutzy drunk." Booth took a healthy sip of the margarita before returning the pitcher to the fridge. "And the hickey was just as much your fault as it was mine. You left one of me — it just got hidden with a button-up shirt."

"Whatever." She shrugged her shoulders. "Are you ready to lose now?"

"Three rules to this, Bones." Booth walked into the living room, clearly ignoring her taunt. "One, get your extremity on the correct color before the next assignment is called. Two, if you put the wrong body part on a spot or hit the wrong color, you finish your drink."

"Fair enough."

"And thirdly, if you fall, you lose an article of clothing."

"Who decides which article of clothing?"

"The other player."

She nodded. "Got it. However, I don't think these are the original rules. This is a children's game."

"Yeah, this is definitely not the G-rated version. If Parker comes home and ever wants to play this, the only rule that exists is the first one. Got it?"

"Yes."

"Good. I hope you're ready to lose."

"Bring it on, Booth." She flipped the switch back on and immediately slid her foot on the correct color when the electronic voice instructed, "Left foot on red."

* * *

Five minutes into the game, Booth found he was no match for Brennan's flexibility. His back was already beginning to ache, and it seemed that the longer the game went on, the more flexible Brennan got. When she slid one leg under his to reach a spot, he groaned. "Seriously, how is that possible?"

"I'm flexible. It's simple."

"I couldn't do touch that circle if someone pointed a gun to my head and told me my life depended on it." He made a face as he struggled to reach the next spot, pushing against Brennan's left arm.

"Hey, you can't make me fall. That's a foul."

"Didn't make you fall, so it's not a foul. Besides, this is Twister … ahhh, dammit!"

"Hah!" She laughed triumphantly as she watched Booth's knee land on the mat. "That counts as a fall."

He agreed. "All right, which clothing item are you confiscating?"

"Shirt, please. And can we take a drink break?"

"That sounds good."

* * *

"But my hand was sweaty," she tried to argue, knowing full well her fall had happened fair and square. "I merely slid a little bit."

"Uh uh, a fall is a fall. I'm claiming your shirt."

"But ..."

"Shirt. Off."

Brennan huffed and reached for the hem. "Fine." She yanked off the tank with a one quick move and returned to the mat, where she saw Booth's disappointed look. "You honestly thought I wasn't wearing a bra?"

"I was hopeful that it was one of those built-in thingies."

"Well, if I fall again, perhaps you would like to claim the bra."

"You bet I would."

* * *

The next time Booth fell, it was a complete wipeout, causing Brennan to burst into a fit of laughter.

"Geez, Bones," he groaned as he rolled off the mat onto their hardwood floor to lie still for a few seconds. "You got no compassion."

"Oh." She gave him a mildly concerned look. "Is your back OK? Or are you just whining and trying to get me not to take your clothes?"

"Twister probably isn't the best thing when it comes to a bad back," he admitted.

Her eyes sparkled. "So you're willing to admit defeat?"

"Absolutely not. If I'm going to lose to Elastigirl, I'm losing fair and square — not because I quit over my hurt back."

Her nose wrinkled. "Elastigirl?"

"Parker and I have got to step up our game and make you watch more cartoons."

"Who is she? Let's take a drink break." She held out her hand sweetly. "And shorts, please."

"Right." He took Brennan's hand and allowed her to help haul him into a standing position again. "Elastigirl is the sexy mom from 'The Incredibles.'"

"Sexy mom, huh? So that's my superhero alter ego?"

Booth handed Brennan her margarita and took a long sip of his. "She's crazy flexible."

"And that's attractive?"

"Oh yeah."

"Even in a cartoon character?"

"Eh, cartoons don't do it for me. I prefer the real thing." He winked at Brennan's eyeroll. "Ready to play again?"

"You owe me your shorts," she reminded, holding out her hand expectantly.

"Right." He pulled them off and tossed them by her tank top. "OK, let's go!"

* * *

Minutes later, they were hopelessly tangled up all over the board, both in near splits. When the caller ordered, "Right hand on blue," they both went for the same spot, causing Brennan's elbow to hit the mat.

"Hah! That's a fall."

"Booth, we both went for the same spot! That's not a fall."

"I got here first, and your elbow hit the mat. That's a fall."

"We didn't say anything in the rules about taking the same spot," she argued.

"Well, you can't do it unless there are more than four players on the mat."

"How on earth would you play with more than four players?" she wondered, glancing at the dimensions of the board.

"Trust me, you can fit a surprising number of kids on this mat. Or college girls." Booth looked at her legs with a grin. "Lose the shorts."

"I thought you wanted my sports bra."

"Changed my mind."

"Why?"

"Just because. No arguing, Bones."

She sighed, toying with the hem of the shorts. "I thought you liked these."

"I do. I'll like them even better on the floor."

"But …"

"Quit stalling and hand me your shorts."

"You figured out I'm not wearing underwear under them," she blurted out, then watched his shocked reaction. "Oh … perhaps you didn't."

"And now I _definitely_ want them off."

"Fine." She sauntered over to the window to close the blinds and immediately stripped out of the shorts, leaving her completely naked, save for her neon blue sports bra. She shook her head as Booth let out a low whistle.

"Jackpot, baby."

"Oh stop it. Not anything you haven't seen before." She downed the rest of her margarita. "Get ready. I'm more flexible when I'm tipsy."

"Thank God it's you losing the shorts and not me," he laughed.

She handed him his margarita glass and he finished his, taking a minute to stretch as Brennan went to refill their glasses. "I got a good feeling about this, Bones."

"That might be the tequila hitting your system."

"Nah."

"Well, you're just enjoying it because I appear to be more naked than you." She walked back over and placed their margaritas within reach. "You're about to lose."

"I don't know about that. You're the one who's already missing underwear."

"Only because the shorts had built-in underwear. There was no reason to wear more."

Booth set his left foot on red as the caller gave another instruction. "Well, I've still got mine."

"Not for long."

* * *

Now armed with the ammunition that they couldn't share the same spots, Brennan quickly strategized, making sure to take the spots that would be easiest for Booth, even if it meant an awkward position for herself. Recognizing her trick, Booth refused to acknowledge that Brennan was making it harder for him. When he finally wobbled and dropped one knee for a split second, he cursed.

"Take off your boxers."

"That only happened because you're stealing all the spots close to me."

She shrugged. "You're the one who fell."

"Fine." He tugged off his boxers, watching as Brennan stared for a minute, then looked away. "Caught ya staring."

"There's no law against looking," she defended. "So is the game over?"

"No way. Game's over when we're too drunk to play or when we decide there's something better to do than Twister."

She nodded, reaching for her margarita glass again. "I have to admit — you've performed better than I expected."

"Well, thanks, Bones."

* * *

Another minute into the game, Booth ended up in a push up position. He glanced over at Brennan, and then began to slowly do push ups, knowing full well that she was watching him. At the next move, he kept his arms relatively close together, still doing pushups.

"Are … are you going to do that the rest of the game?" she asked, just the slightest bit breathless.

"Maybe." He wiped his forehead against his arm on the next pass. "Why, does it bother you?"

"No! I mean, no. Not at all."

The next few moves came so quickly that Booth still wasn't quite sure how they happened. While he remained in a relatively simple plank position with both arms stretched out, his head facing the mat, Brennan had weaseled her way under him in a near backbend position.

"Bones," he warned as her arm brushed his hand.

"Not cheating," she murmured into his ear, pressing a kiss there before leaning back down.

"Really not fair."

"Then flip over," she encouraged.

"Now that would be cheating."

"Perhaps I'll let it slide just this once."

"You're way too much of a rule follower to let it slide. You're just trying to get me to lose."

At the next "right foot on yellow," Brennan jutted her chest up against Booth's, firmly pressing herself against his body, now damp with sweat.

"So not fair," he groaned.

"I'm not cheating," she assured him sweetly, this time kissing his lips before pulling away. "We never said anything in the rules about not touching each other. You can touch me."

"The minute I touch you, I'm losing the game."

"Oh, come on. Touch me," she urged.

"You're pure evil."

"Left arm on green," came the next instruction, resulting in Booth leaning just a bit lower to reach the spot with his arm. At his move, they both gasped simultaneously.

"Oh god," Brennan moaned, tipping her head back slightly. "You are pressed right …"

"I know exactly damn where I'm pressed. Don't you dare move," Booth ordered sternly.

"Already did."

"Is that sweat or …"

"Both."

"God, where is the next instruction?" Booth was nearly panting, trying to focus on anything except the increasing throb and his nearly naked partner under him. Right on cue, "right foot on green," came out of the calling box, and Booth immediately shook his head. "No way. Ain't happening." He fell, careful to roll to the side, and grabbed for Brennan.

"Hey, I had my foot moving over there," she protested.

"So I see. You win." He kissed her lips soundly, pulling her on top of him. "You're one hell of a competitor."

"Mmm." She stroked his chest with one hand. "Thank you. It feels nice to win."

"Pretty sure that's not all that you're feeling."

She laughed and squeezed his arm as she pressed her chest to his. "Time to enact the 'there's something better to do than Twister' rule?"

"Definitely. And I'll let you pick – here or the bedroom?"

"What if I want somewhere else?"

"I'm game for that, as long as we can get there in under a minute."

"Deal." She grinned. "Winner gets to choose, huh? We should play Twister more often."

"You may have won the game, Bones, but I'm pretty sure I'm about to win what's really important …"

* * *

_Shout outs to those who helped/made requests with this chapter:_

_**Covalent Bond** wanted to see Angela arrange for Booth to teach Brennan Twister. __**FaithinBones** suggested Booth's bad back play into things. __**Melbones** mentioned Brennan's "steep learning curve" and Booth regretting that he taught her the game. __**mph95** said "yum" in her review, and that just made me laugh. Yum, indeed. __**mychakk** and** NatesMama** requested similar things: "hot, steamy moments" and "naked Booth playing Twister." (I chickened out a little, but that's why we have another note after these shout outs!) __**threesquares** wanted to see some Booth and Brennan conversation about how to play the game. (Really not sure I delivered very well on that one — sorry, threesquares!)_

_Dear readers, I have a proposition for you. Vote on where you want to see round two take place (via the comments/reviews). Then … someone needs to write a round two (technically round three). Pretty please? I'm just not feeling up to writing the true M stuff (yet). I will gladly edit/critique/help/collaborate all you like — I just don't want to write it. _


	19. Closure

_I apologize for the delay in posting another chapter. Work sent me to NY for two weeks, and life was crazy there! Still working on responding to all the nice comments from the last chapter._

_Setting for this one is post season six. I've been working on this one for a while, but finally sat down to finish it today. I'll warn you that as I type, I'm very grieved – my company lost a beloved summer intern in a tragic accident this week. (But writing is therapy, and that is a good thing.) So, fair warning, angst/sad monster came out in this chapter. (But good news: I promise I don't end on a hopeless note.)_

_Oh, and I drop a particular four letter word in this one, which might earn it an M rating. _

_Disclaimer: I don't own Bones._

* * *

"Where the hell are you?"

"At the game!" Booth shouted into his cell, pressing a finger into his other ear. "Is this about work?"

"You're at a hockey game? Really?"

"Yes! Again, is this about work?"

"No."

"Then call back later, Angela." Booth's gaze was still focused on the hockey rink, trying to keep up with the dizzying speed of the players.

"Why did you leave her tonight?"

"We don't spend every waking minute together."

"Booth, do you know what today is?"

By now, Booth was more than irritated, silently fuming as he rolled his eyes. "Yes, Angela, it's Friday, which means it's the end of a very long workweek. If this call isn't about work, then leave me alone until Monday."

"Tonight's the night Brennan and Vincent were scheduled to present at that conference."

Suddenly, Booth felt like he'd been punched in the stomach. "What?"

"The conference in Philadelphia. You know, the crazy dinosaur project."

"Fuck." Standing up quickly, Booth waved goodbye to his coworkers, who gave him confused looks as he headed down the stairs toward the exit.

"You left her alone tonight."

"Dammit, I didn't know tonight was supposed to be that conference!"

"It's written on her calendar in the office."

"Well, I obviously missed it." Booth paused, digging around for his car keys as he kept walking out of the arena. "And she didn't tell me."

"Of course she didn't tell you. This is Brennan we're talking about."

"Are you with her?"

"I tried, but I don't have a key to unlock the deadbolt. I'm assuming you do."

"Yeah."

"Get your ass over there."

"On it." Booth broke into a sprint as he hit the parking lot. "Angela, what do I do?"

"If you were a woman, you'd bring a bottle of wine and a carton of ice cream, along with a box of tissues."

"You know she's pregnant."

"Yeah, so skip the wine."

"I'm not a woman." Booth sighed. "Come on, Angela. You know her, and you've helped her through some hard shit."

"As have you … except for tonight."

"Not helpful."

"She's your girlfriend. You'll figure it out."

"Angela, I am asking for your help. Please."

"I'd start by saying you're sorry for allowing her to spend part of this evening alone and apologize profusely for being an asshole." Angela hesitated. "Tonight's going to be hard. She may not like that you're there, but she needs you. Don't leave her."

* * *

When Booth unlocked both the lock and the deadbolt to Brennan's apartment, he found the place bathed in a low glow of lamplight. Brennan was sitting with one knee pulled up against her chest, her damp hair in a messy ponytail, hunched over the table with a spread of papers and her red grading pen. She glanced up at him and gave him a tired smile. "I didn't think you'd be back so soon. Did they win?"

He shrugged. "I left early."

"Why?" Her eyes — _oh shit, they were puffy _— revealed her genuine confusion."But you couldn't wait to see the game — you've been talking about it all week. Why would you leave early?"

Walking over to her, Booth put one hand on Brennan's shoulder. "You didn't tell me what tonight was."

Her body stiffening ever so slightly, Brennan's eyes narrowed. "What?"

"You and Vincent were supposed to be presenting tonight." Booth glanced at the clock on the wall. "If I recall correctly, if you were at the conference right now, you'd probably be finishing the presentation and would be gearing up to take questions."

She bit her lip and looked away from Booth, glancing at the papers in front of her.

"Bones." Booth sat down next to her and cupped her chin in his hand. "I am so sorry that I didn't remember it was tonight."

"No need to apologize."

Booth could see Brennan's eyes watering, and her firm determination not to cry made him ache. He decided to try a different approach. "You didn't let Angela inside earlier."

"She wasn't here."

"Yeah, she was. She's a good friend, and she didn't forget. She came by to make sure you weren't alone because I was an asshole and left you."

"No Booth, she wasn't here. Perhaps she came while I was in the bathroom."

"She tried to unlock your door."

"I had it dead bolted. I took a bath."

Now it was Booth's turn to look puzzled. "You did?"

"What's so unusual about a bath?"

"You took a bath, and you had the door dead bolted? Come on, Bones. Those are two things you never do."

Her next words came out slowly, like she was choosing them carefully. "Well, it's been a very long past few weeks, and I wanted to relax tonight. I normally drink wine to help me wind down, but clearly that's no longer an option. I thought a hot bath might be a suitable substitute."

Booth brushed a stray piece of hair away from Brennan's face. "But obviously it didn't work."

"Why do you say that?"

"You're here at the table grading papers, not reading on the couch or in bed. Your shoulders are tight, and your face is tense. And …" he sighed, looking her straight in the eyes, "you've been crying."

She glanced away from him.

"Bones."

"You're right." Her confession came tumbling out. "I went to turn on the water for a bath and I added baking soda and ginger to it. At first, I didn't even know why I did it … then I remembered: Vincent was the one who told me that baking soda is good for the whole body, not just for soaking one's feet. Did you know that?"

Booth shook his head.

"And then I added ginger because it helps ease muscles and it 'really smells quite lovely,' to quote him." Brennan gave a faint smile, recalling the exact words of her intern. "He was the one who introduced me to the mixture of baking soda and ginger together. But once I got in tonight, the water wasn't hot enough … and all I could think about was that the temperature must not be between 39 and 40 degrees Celsius …"

"… because that's optimal bath water temperature for sore muscles."

"Yes." Brennan nodded tearfully. "How did you know?"

"Because it sounds like one of Vincent's random facts."

"I can't stop thinking about him." She gestured helplessly to a neat stack of paper on the table. "This came in the mail three weeks ago and I still can't bear to read it."

"What is it?"

"The final edit of a piece for a research journal." She wiped away a lone tear from her cheek stubbornly. "Vincent co-authored it with me. It's scheduled to be published in two months. He never got to read the final copy."

"Can it still be printed?"

She nodded. "Cam and I wrote a memo to the journal explaining the situation. It's in the manila envelope, along with a copy of his death certificate. I'm the primary author, so as long as I sign for him, they'll accept it."

"You're still going to submit it, right?"

"Yes." She bit her lip. "I think he'd want it published."

"Yeah. I think he would." Booth leaned to kiss Brennan's cheek reassuringly. "Come sit on the couch with me for a while."

She didn't argue with him, which was a sure sign that she was still upset, and followed him to den area. He smiled to see the TV, which she had purchased for him, playing the game on mute. "You've got the game on."

"I just wanted something familiar on."

"You didn't want to be alone," Booth remarked quietly, pressing a lingering kiss to Brennan's temple as she settled next to him on the couch. "I'm sorry."

"It's OK. I wish you'd stayed at the game." She sniffled and rubbed one of her eyes. "It'd be far better than spending the night with your hormonal partner."

"I don't want to be at the game anymore, Bones." He looked at her eyes, glimmering with unshed tears. "I want to be right here with you. All night. Whatever you need."

"I hate this." She put her head on his chest and heaved a shaky sigh.

"I know. But it's OK to cry and be sad."

"I don't like it."

"I know."

For the next few minutes, they sat in silence. Booth stroked Brennan's hair gently as he watched the game on mute. She let out an occasional sniffle as she kept her head on his chest, staring at the table across the room as she rubbed a hand across her stomach, absentmindedly caressing her barely-there bump.

"Bones, I'm going to grab some water. Want any?" He felt her nod into his chest. "OK. Be right back."

He went to fill two glasses and made a pass by the table, reaching to grab the neatly paper-clipped stack and the pen. Settling back on the couch, he offered the papers to Brennan. "I think you'll feel better if you read through this."

"Really?"

"Yeah. You keep staring at it like it's haunting you. Just doing it will give you some closure. And once it gets published, you can send it to his family, and that'll help, too." He presented her with the pen. "You can even read it out loud to me if you'd like."

She shook her head with a smile. "You hate research journal articles."

"But I'm willing to listen if it'll help."

"I appreciate the offer." She took the pen and the stack of paper. "How about we compromise and you just stay here while I read through it?"

"That sounds good. You read, and I'll sit here and watch the game."

* * *

Booth had never seen Brennan take so long with a journal submission — and in their three months of being together, he had seen more than his fair share of how long it took her to edit something, whether it was grading a student's paper or reworking a chapter in her latest novel. The game had been over for half an hour, and Booth watched the highlights and post-game interviews, reading the transcript at the bottom of the screen. He felt Brennan reach toward the coffee table for her water, and noticed her glance at the TV screen.

"The game's over."

"Yep."

"Did your team win?"

"Yeah."

She gave him a smile and pressed a kiss to his cheek before taking a sip of her water. "Good. You were quiet."

"Didn't want to disturb you. You've barely moved in the last hour."

"I find that this is taking all my focus." She took another sip of water, and then returned the glass. "It has to be perfect."

"It will be," he assured her, drawing his arm closer around her. "But why do you want it perfect?"

"I always want things perfect."

He rephrased his question. "Why does this one have to be perfect?"

Quiet for a few seconds, Brennan finally responded, "Because it's the last published work with Vincent's name on it. This is his final work. This is how people will remember him."

"I don't know that's completely true, Bones."

Puzzled, she looked over at him. "What? Why do you say that?"

"Vincent's living on, whether we realize it or not. All those crazy facts of his that he's told each of us, the memorial plaque at the Jeffersonian, the scholarship fund that you and Hodgins started, the fact that our godson has Vincent as part of his name … Vincent's not getting forgotten anytime soon, Bones. Don't pressure yourself with this article. People are going to read it, and yeah, it might be the last time his name appears in an academic journal, but people aren't going to forget him."

While her lower lip quivered, Brennan's face slowly began to lighten. "You really think that?"

"Yes. Vincent was a great scientist and a good kid with family and friends who cared about him. No one's forgetting him. I promise." Booth kissed the slight furrow between Brennan's eyebrows. "It's not up to you to make sure he's remembered. That's going to happen. People loved him, Bones. He's going to be remembered."

She tried to wipe her eyes, but couldn't catch the stream of tears trickling down her right cheek.

"Stop being so hard on yourself. What happened is not our fault, and you are not responsible for making sure people remember him. That's going to happen."

"I know," she admitted, quickly moving the stack of paper to prevent it from getting splashed with her tears. "I just …"

"Shhh." Booth quickly pulled Brennan into his lap, letting her head rest on his shoulder. "I'm right here. Get it all out. It's OK."

Her sobs were more cries of relief than anguish, and after a few minutes, Brennan started to feel more at ease. Booth continued to rub Brennan's back, and placed soft kisses along the top of her head, silently trying to reassure and calm her. Finally, Brennan placed her hand on Booth's chest, gingerly touching his tear-soaked t-shirt. "Thank you."

"No need to thank me." He pressed a long kiss into her hair, inhaling deeply. "You're OK."

"Yes." She exhaled shakily. "I am."

"You ready for bed?"

She faltered, glancing at the papers, which had fallen from the end of the couch onto the floor. "Almost."

"You want to sleep on it?"

Brennan shook her head. "I want to finish it."

"OK." Booth leaned over to pick up the stack. "Hey, this looks like the last page."

She gave him a confident smile. "It is. This will be my third and final read-through."

"Good."

Booth watched, still stroking Brennan's back, as his partner scrutinized the final page for several minutes. When she turned the page, he recognized the final page as the publishing contract and noticed the two lines for signatures.

"Can you hand me my fountain pen, please?" Brennan pointed at the end table close to Booth's side. "It's in the drawer."

He strained to pull open the drawer and grab the heavy instrument, which Booth placed in Brennan's waiting hand. He watched as she uncapped the pen and deliberately signed, "Dr. Temperance Brennan" on the first line. Noting Brennan's slight hesitation, Booth kissed a familiar spot on her throat, and then let his lips touch her earlobe as he murmured, "It's OK. Finish it."

He could feel her swallow hard, then watched as she blinked, letting a single tear fall on the page as she signed the second line, "Dr. Temperance Brennan for Mr. Vincent Nigel-Murray." She exhaled, adding a note, "Please see attached memo," under the second signature line.

"You did it." He watched her smile ever so slightly. "Good job."

Brennan recapped the pen and placed it on top of the papers, gently sliding them onto the coffee table. She placed a hand on Booth's cheek and kissed him, the salt from her earlier tears still lingering on her lips. "Bed, please."

She didn't protest when he scooped her up into his arms and walked them into her bedroom. Placing her gently on the bed, he walked over to turn off the overhead light, and then climbed into bed, peeling off his shirt before settling down on the mattress next to her. He wrapped one arm around her waist, meeting her hand to rest right over her abdomen, and kissed her neck one last time. "Try to sleep tonight, OK? I love you."

Lacing her fingers with his, she gave a whispered reply of, "Love you, too."

* * *

_Thanks for reading and reviewing, especially during this quiet hiatus season._


	20. The Story Behind Adeline's Name

_So Melbones, who is a faithful reader and reviewer, left me a kind note way back on chapter one of this story, which is where I introduced Adeline as the name of Booth and Brennan's second daughter. Melbones said (very nicely!) that she wasn't sure about the name. I messaged her back admitting that I wasn't sold on it either. (Hah!) But hey, I wrote it into that chapter (and into chapters 12 and 13), and I was sticking to it. However, I felt like if I wasn't sold on the name, I figured it needed a good story to explain the reasoning behind the name. This is that story._

_Disclaimer: I don't own Bones._

* * *

"God, woman, you are going to kill me."

Letting out a husky laugh, Brennan rolled over from her side to face Booth, placing a wet, open-mouthed kiss on his throat. "You certainly didn't act or sound like I was killing you."

"Mmm … sure felt like it." He kissed her forehead. "It'd be a damn good way to go."

"Booth, quick," she interrupted, grabbing for his hand to plant it firmly on her stomach. "Can you feel her?"

"No …"

"Wait," Brennan instructed. "Maybe she'll move again."

"Whoa!" Booth grinned. "Hey, there she goes!"

"You felt that?"

"Yeah." He laughed. "Forgot how great it is to feel your kid moving around."

"I'm glad you finally felt her. You were able to feel Christine much earlier."

"Yeah, but there's no exact science to all this," he reminded her, gently running his hand over her stomach.

"True." She smiled, watching his hand move. "Booth?"

"Yeah?"

"I think we should talk about naming her."

"Again? We didn't get anywhere when we discussed this last week."

"And we're one week closer to her due date. She needs a name."

He sighed. "You're right."

"I really want her to have a family name."

Curiously, he looked up from his gaze at Brennan's rounded abdomen. "You do?"

"Yes." She nodded, nestling her head against his bare chest. "One from your side of the family."

"My side?"

"Uh huh." She placed her hand next to her head, gently stroking Booth's chest. "It's only fair. Christine's name is from my side, so our next daughter should have one from your side."

"Well, I get your logic," he hesitated, "but I'm just not exactly sure what name we're going to pick."

"How about you go through the list of strong females in your family?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Strong females? That's the requirement?"

"Strong, or women you deeply cared about. We can't just give her a family name and have it be someone whom you didn't like."

"Right." He shook his head with a smile. "Well, as you know, Mom's name is Marianne. And while we love her …"

Brennan interrupted, "I don't think our daughter is a Marianne."

"Yeah, me neither. And Mom hates her name anyway. She'd kill us if we passed on the name to her granddaughter."

"What was Marianne's mother's name?"

"Uh uh. Not an option."

"Tell me."

"Beulah Ana Mae. And Mae with an 'e,' not an 'y.'" He laughed as he felt Brennan's nose wrinkle against his chest. "Told you it wasn't an option."

"You're right. Definitely not an option. What about Hank's wife's name?"

"You really want to name our daughter Doris?"

Again, her nose crinkled up. "I forgot that was her name. Somehow I was thinking it was Elizabeth."

"That was her middle name." He paused. "You'd be willing to name her Elizabeth?"

"No … but so far, it's better than your other family names."

"Hey, I warned you that they weren't great. That was one of the reasons why it was so easy for us to decide on Christine's name."

She sighed. "Surely you had some aunts?"

"Yeah. Ida, Morrie, Claudia, and Rebecca. And while Rebecca is a normal name …"

"We aren't naming a child Rebecca," Brennan stated firmly. "Ever."

Booth laughed. "I figured you'd understand that one."

"There wasn't anyone else?"

He thought for a minute. "I had a crazy step-aunt named Sally Joeline."

"Your family really does have the worst names," she groaned. "And that's coming from someone whose parents had the opportunity to rename their daughter and chose the name 'Temperance.'"

"Wait." Booth paused. "There's one other person … but she wasn't technically family."

"Not a blood relative?"

"Yeah, not blood."

"Sometimes family isn't blood-related … isn't that what you've always said?"

"Yeah." Booth swallowed. "How do you feel about the name Adeline?"

She furrowed her brow, but noticed Booth's tone had changed ever so slightly. "Who was she?"

"Do you like the name?"

"Booth." Still ignoring his question, Brennan reached up to cup his face with one of her hands. "Who was she? I've never heard you mention her, but she obviously has great meaning to you."

"How'd you figure that?"

"You look somber. And the pitch of your voice changed when you said her name." She placed a reassuring kiss on his cheek. "Would you tell me about her? Please?"

"Yeah." He let out a sigh. "Can't believe I've never mentioned her before. It was a really long time ago. Guess I haven't thought about her in a while."

Brennan leaned closer to put her head under Booth's chin, still holding his hand. "I'm listening."

"Mom always referred to her as her sister. It wasn't until college that Pops told me Aunt Adeline wasn't actually Mom's sister — she was just a good friend who lived in the same building as us. She didn't have kids of her own, so she kind of adopted Jared and me. Anytime Mom had to go out and work, she'd stay with us." Booth paused, a smile crossing his face. "She was fun. I don't remember her well because I was so young, and geez, Jared was way too little to ever really remember her. She was a lot of fun. Always lots of games and dancing and going to the park with her. Really loved us like we were her own kids."

"Was she married?"

"Yeah."

"No children of her own?"

Booth shook his head. "She was married to a drunk, too. Probably why she and Mom connected in the first place. Her husband traveled a lot for work, so she was by herself a lot. She even came over and cooked and ate dinner with us once or twice a week."

"She sounds almost like she functioned as a second mother to you and your brother," Brennan remarked.

"She was." Booth's voice hitched ever so slightly. "She was the one who protected me and Jared from Dad."

"But I thought Hank …"

"This was before Pops moved back to the city. He didn't move back until Jared was about four."

"Oh."

"Back in college, Pops told me that were it not for Adeline, Mom swore Jared would have never been born."

"What?"

"Aunt Adeline walked into the apartment one day and found me crying on the sofa, all by myself. She went back into the bedroom and found Dad beating the shit out of Mom. Mom was almost eight months along with Jared."

Involuntarily, Brennan gasped.

"Dad was so drunk that he'd forgotten he'd gotten his wife pregnant. Kept insisting she had cheated on him. Wouldn't believe that it was his kid. Just crazy, stupid, irrational drunk — not a drop of sense left in him. Apparently Adeline was able to pull him off Mom long enough for her to get out of the room. She grabbed me off the couch and we went to the neighbor's. They took her to the hospital. The next morning, Aunt Adeline came to get me and took me to see Mom and meet my baby brother. She had a black eye and her arm in a sling. Told me she fell down some stairs … even at four years old, I knew better."

"But Jared was OK?"

"Remarkably, yeah." Booth let out a bitter laugh. "Hardheaded even in the womb, I guess. Good thing."

"And your mother?"

"She was bruised up everywhere, but she made it. Greeted me with a smile and couldn't wait to help me hold Jared. I think she had some stitches, too. That's the worst one I remember."

"I'm sorry, Booth."

He sighed. "That's just one of the couple times I remember her rescuing us. Pops thinks she probably did the same thing countless times when I was a baby, or even while Mom was pregnant with me. I probably owe that woman my life."

"What happened to her?"

"She died when Jared was two." He shrugged. "Never really found out what happened."

"You think it was her husband," Brennan assumed.

"It's a likely scenario. Hell, for a while, I wondered if it could have even been Dad in a horrific drunken rage. But yeah, I assume something dealing with her husband. Pops said he read there was a car crash, but he wasn't sold on her husband's innocence either."

"Who took care of you and Jared after she died?"

"Just Mom. She did the best she could, but Dad still got the better of us sometimes."

"Until Hank came along."

"Yeah." He sighed. "I owe him my life, too."

Brennan pulled her head off his chest, sitting up in bed to look him straight in the eyes. "Booth?"

"Yeah?"

She reached for his hand and placed it on her swollen stomach. "We're naming her Adeline."

* * *

Months later, Booth answered a knock on the hospital door, and was nearly attacked by Marianne, who was still giddy about being invited into the presence of such a new grandchild.

"Hey Mom."

"Hi." She was beaming, squeezing him in a crushing hug. "Congratulations."

"Thank you."

"Thank you for calling me so soon."

He shrugged and smiled. "We're just happy you could be here."

"She's not even a day old yet. I can't believe I get to see her quickly … this is a whole new experience for me."

"I know." He smiled again. "Let's step out into the hall for a few minutes so Bones can finish nursing."

"Booth?" came Brennan's quiet call from inside the room. "If it's Marianne, go ahead and bring her in. I don't mind."

"OK." He shut the room door behind them, stepping in front to lead Marianne into the room. "Baby girl, you ready to meet Nana?"

"Hi Marianne." Brennan greeted her pseudo-mother-in-law with a tired but happy voice. "I hope you don't mind — she's almost finished, and then you can hold her."

"I don't mind at all." Marianne stepped by the side of the bed and planted a quick kiss on Brennan's forehead. "Congratulations, Temperance. You look well."

"Thank you. I don't feel too well, but apparently that's normal after a c-section."

"Things go according to plan?"

"Pretty much. She gave us a little bit of a scare early on, but she's fine." Looking up from her daughter, Brennan smiled at Booth. "Booth kept me sane."

"She was amazing. Still is. I can't believe she's nursing and holding a baby after that kind of surgery."

"I'm still numb," she reminded him with a slow grin. "Just wait another day or two when the pain kicks in. I don't know that I'll be quite up to everything."

"I'd love to stay and help if I can," Marianne offered.

"We would love that. Thank you." Brennan stroked the baby's head gently. "Hey sweetheart, are you finished? I think your grandma wants to meet you." She looked over at Marianne. "Want me to burp her, or would you?"

"Oh, I'd love to." Marianne gave a happy laugh. "Goodness, it's been so long since I've done that with a little one!"

Booth reached over to help Brennan readjust and tie her gown. He picked the baby up from Brennan's lap and turned to Marianne. "Ready?"

She gave a quick nod, arms outstretched. "Oh yes. I've been waiting for this since your phone call."

As Booth placed his daughter in his mother's arms, he watched proudly as her eyes shimmered and her face lit up with an even wider smile. "Hi, beautiful," she cooed happily. "Oh, I'm so glad to hold you and finally meet you."

"We're glad you get to meet her, too." Booth made room for Marianne to sit on the couch, and she gently sat down to better examine her new granddaughter.

"You've kept her name from me," Marianne reminded her son. "I believe you promised me that the minute I had her in my arms, you'd tell me her name."

"Yeah, we did." Booth smiled at Brennan as he sat down on the edge of her hospital bed. "And you're here, holding her, so I guess it's time, huh, Bones?"

"Yes," she agreed. "You go ahead."

"You sure?"

She nodded confidently.

"Mom, your new granddaughter's name is Adeline Lea."

Immediately, Marianne's mouth fell open in shock. She was silent, staring at the baby, then looked back over at Brennan and Booth. Her eyes slowly began to fill with tears and she had to pull one arm out from under her granddaughter to wipe her eyes.

"Are you upset?" Dismayed, Brennan looked over at Booth. "Perhaps this …"

"She's happy." Booth got up off the bed and went to join Marianne on the couch. He put an arm around her. "We just caught you a little off guard, didn't we?"

"Yes." She nodded, tears still streaming down her face.

"Do you like it?" Brennan asked, still unconvinced that Marianne was accepting of the name.

"Oh yes." She nodded vigorously. "I just never dreamed … I mean, Seeley barely remembers Adeline."

"I remember more than you think, Mom." He gave her a reassuring squeeze. "Good things."

"She was so good to you and Jared."

"And to you. She was family."

Marianne nodded. "I always told you she was your aunt."

"And for all practical purpose, she was." Booth smiled at Brennan. "Bones insisted on a family name for the baby. We wanted to name her after you …"

"Oh, goodness no. You know I despise my name."

"Which is why Booth brainstormed and eventually told me about Adeline," Brennan explained. "After he told me about her, I knew that was what we needed to name our daughter."

"Thank you. Both of you." Marianne gave the couple a watery smile. "I feel honored. And this little one is so very, very lucky to be named after such a brave and kind woman."

Booth gazed at his daughter, nestled in her grandmother's arms. "We think so, too."

"Perhaps over the next few days, you could tell us more stories about Adeline?" Brennan suggested cautiously. "We have plenty about my mother for Christine, and it only seems fair to have stories for Adeline."

"I can manage that." Marianne agreed with a smile.

* * *

_adama-roslinlove asked me (months ago) to write a Marianne and Booth scene. I honestly hadn't really planned on having Marianne in this chapter, but it just seemed to fit. (adama-roslinlove, there's another Marianne chapter coming eventually!) _

_Special thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter and/or send me a message. I was absolutely blown away by your generous reviews, your kind condolences, and sweet words regarding my loss. I had another big one this last week (death always comes in threes, and this was the third one), but that will be addressed in another story. Thank you again for your kindness._

_Thanks for your patience with my posting schedule. Work has been nuts, plus I moved two weeks ago and still don't have Internet at my new place (thank you, kind neighbor for not protecting your wifi signal!), but my Internet install will be this week. Hopefully that enables me to post a bit more, as well as review some of the great stories that I've seen pop up in the last month!_


	21. Keeping a Secret

_So I had some more angst ready to post, and then I realized, "Hey, I just don't want to post that on this gorgeous day." So I took an idea I had and this is what happened. And yep, it's more baby stuff, but fast-forward about 24 years from the time of the present season._

_Side note: If you'd like to think that the Andrew in this story is the one in razztaztic's lovely story ("Roots and Wings"), you can think that; however, I have another chapter (nearly finished!) that has both Andrew and Christine in different vocations from razztaztic's story. I honestly picked the name Andrew because I like it. (Having said that, you should totally go read razztaztic's story and get a healthy dose of happiness, and not just with Andrew and Christine tales. It's good stuff, but chapter 7 happens to be magic, in my humble opinion.)_

_Disclaimer: I don't own Bones._

* * *

"Andrew doesn't want to find out the sex of the baby."

"But you do."

Christine nodded as she reached for the glass her mother had placed in front of her. "Oh absolutely."

"I assume you've argued about it."

"God, yes." Christine groaned. "We're both so stubborn."

"I agree."

"Not helping, Mom. Seriously, I don't know what to do. We could barely talk about it last night."

"Well," Brennan paused as she sat down on the couch by her daughter, "your father and I were the same way with Adeline."

"Really?"

"Yes, but of course I talked him into it. That, and it just drove him crazy after a while not knowing."

"Well, Andrew is really sticking to his guns on this one." Christine sighed as she rubbed her hand over her well-established bump. "I mean, we could have found out the sex weeks ago. I just want to find out, you know?"

"Then find out."

Christine hesitated. "You think so?"

"Yes."

"But Andrew …"

"But you're the mother. And you have to go through labor." Brennan gave a knowing smile. "Have you reminded him of that? I recall it working fairly well with your father."

"Yes, but I've failed miserably. He's refusing to budge, even after I got belligerent about the fact that I'll have to deliver a baby who has half of his huge genes." Christine sipped her water. "Last night, he did cave a little. We debated the pros and cons of me finding out and keeping it from him."

"Do you really think you could do that?" Brennan asked.

"Yeah. I'm not a big fan of it because I'd really like him to know, but if that's what he wants, I'm OK with it."

"And he's OK with you knowing?"

Christine shrugged. "It was his suggestion."

"I'm with Andrew on this one," Booth entered the conversation, startling Christine as he rounded the corner. "Some things in life need to be a surprise."

"Like you sneaking up on us? That kind of surprise?" Christine accused, giving Booth a slight grin.

"Sniper senses," he reminded with a laugh.

"Those sniper senses are rusty," Brennan noted. "I heard you coming down the stairs."

"Well, live long enough with me and you pick up my strengths, huh Bones?"

"Live long enough and you're old, therefore, you're not as quiet as you think," Brennan rebutted with a sly smile.

"Hey now. I can't stay young forever." Booth plopped down in the armchair across from the couch and propped up his feet. "So what's this I hear about an argument or something?"

"Christine wants to find out the baby's gender. Andrew doesn't. I believe that summarizes it."

"I want to be able to tell people what to buy us," Christine reasoned. "We've got at least two baby showers, and it's so impracticable not knowing."

"But if you let them buy gender-specific clothes and items, Andrew's going to see them and figure it out," Booth stated.

"Ugh," Christine groaned, settling back against the couch as she crossed her arms over her chest.

"What?"

"You sound like Andrew, Dad! That's _exactly_ what he's been telling me!"

"You could hide the clothes and items in the nursery," Brennan suggested. "As long as Andrew knew they were back there, he wouldn't go in. Or perhaps most of the items would fit in the nursery closet."

"Nuh uh," Booth shook his head. "The husband's job is to put together the crib and move the furniture and paint and all that good stuff. Andrew will see everything and he'll know within five seconds."

"But I've already picked gender-neutral bedding and we're not repainting the nursery," Christine explained. "I've thought this through. I could even put everything in the room and cover it with a big blanket or something so he doesn't see. And I've told Aunt Angela no pink or blue decorating – I want more neutral colors anyway."

"It seems that Andrew really and genuinely wants this to be a surprise," Brennan mused, "though I'm not sure why. It's much more practical to know."

"Right?" Christine huffed. "Men."

"I wish we had kept one of ours a secret."

Raising an eyebrow, Brennan turned to look at Booth. "Really? After all these years, you tell me that one should have been a suprise?"

"Yup." He nodded. "Surprises are fun, Bones."

"But the gender of our firstborn?"

Booth shrugged. "Didn't have to be Christine. We could have done it with either of the other two. We didn't, and that's OK, but surprises are a good thing. I know you two aren't really fans of surprises, but they're few and far between here in life. Why not take advantage of one?"

"I just want to find out. And if that's selfish, I'm sorry … I guess I'm selfish." Christine sighed. "But if I do find out, I'm going to want to tell someone. And if I can't tell Andrew, I'm worried it'll kill me." She glanced at her mother. "Metaphorically speaking, of course."

Brennan rolled her eyes. "I got that."

"If you do find out the baby's gender, I know who you could tell."

"Oh?" Christine looked at Booth curiously. "And who might that be?"

He pointed to Brennan silently, a smile crossing his face.

Neither Christine nor Booth missed the brief but delighted expression that crossed Brennan's face for a split second before she returned to her composed demeanor.

"Lord knows the woman can keep a secret," Booth remarked, reaching for Brennan's water glass. "She's kept all mine for years." He gave Brennan a small smile, which she immediately returned. "Christine, your mom won't tell a soul. The secret's safe with her."

"Yeah, I know that. But that means she'd even have to keep it from you, Dad. Wouldn't that drive you crazy?"

"Nah." Booth shook his head. "I'm with Andrew on this. Keep me in the dark until you deliver. Like I said, surprises are a good thing."

Turning towards her mother, Christine gave a hopeful smile. "What do you think, Mom? Want to keep a secret from everyone for the next eighteen or so weeks?"

* * *

"I am so sorry." The door opened and closed quickly as Brennan slipped into the darkened room. "I completely lost track of time at work, and traffic was uncooperative."

"No worries – just getting started here," the ultrasound technician assured her. "We were running a bit behind ourselves."

"Good." Brennan let out a relieved sigh as she held out her hand to the technician. "I'm Temperance Brennan, Christine's mother."

"It's very nice to meet you," the technician returned the handshake. "I'm Alexa."

"Nice to meet you, Alexa. Again, I'm sorry for delaying things."

"Not a problem at all. I promise, you didn't keep us waiting."

Brennan sat next to Christine, who offered her mother her hand with an eager, "Hi." She was practically giddy, a grin spread wide across her face. "I'm really glad you're here."

"Me too." Brennan squeezed Christine's hand and returned the grin.

"All right, ladies. Ready to find out?"

"Oh yeah." Christine nodded. "Absolutely."

"You know the drill … this is going to be a little cold." The technician applied the gel and began to spread it. "But I'm going as fast as I can … you look pretty eager."

"Yeah," Christine admitted. "Been waiting for almost four weeks!"

"I know!" The technician laughed. "After the last appointment, I was convinced you and your husband were just going to keep arguing."

"Well, we compromised … _oh_." Christine stopped as the sound of the baby's heartbeat filled the room. "Gosh … I love that sound."

"Never gets old," the technician agreed, glancing to check her monitor. "Right on target, Christine. Baby's doing great."

"Good." Christine squeezed Brennan's hand again. "Alexa … my mom's here because Andrew doesn't want to find out the sex of the baby."

"Ah." Alexa nodded. "That happens sometimes."

"But I'm finding out and I wanted to tell someone."

"Good for you. You should definitely share this moment with someone. And don't worry – I won't tell Andrew when he comes back for the next appointment."

"Thank you."

Moving the wand around Christine's abdomen, Alexa tapped the monitor screen with her free hand. "Well, looks like baby's ready for a reveal!"

"Really? Oh good." Christine let out a relieved sigh. "I just thought after all this, we might not be able to find out."

"Nope, definitely able. Baby is absolutely in full cooperation mode today." Alexa glanced at Brennan, who was studying the monitor closely. "I hear you're a doctor … want to do the honors?"

"Oh, I only examine bones – I'm a forensic anthropologist," Brennan began. "While I'm familiar with them, ultrasounds aren't exactly my specialty. In fact, I can't tell you the last time I studied one."

"So?" Alexa shrugged. "That may be true, but I'm pretty sure you can read one."

"Mom?" Christine looked up at Brennan eagerly. "Can you see anything? Can you tell what I'm having?"

Hesitating, Brennan peered closer at the monitor, squinting her eyes just slightly. "Well, I …"

"Mom, if you know, just say it!" Christine blurted out. "Please!"

"You're having a son," Brennan murmured, looking at the technician to confirm her reading.

"Definitely a boy," Alexa agreed with a nod.

"Really? Definitely?" Christine asked.

"Yep … definitely and totally a boy, unless that kiddo's growing a third short leg," Alexa winked at her patient as she moved the cursor around a section of the screen. "See right there? All boy."

Laughing gleefully, Christine leaned over to awkwardly hug Brennan. "Oh God … Andrew is going to be beside himself! We're having a _boy_!"

"Yes," Brennan returned her daughter's happy smile. "Your father will be, too."

"He's getting a grandson … gosh, you're_ both_ getting a grandson!" Christine gazed at the screen. "I can't believe we're having a boy!"

"Are you excited?" Alexa asked facetiously with a laugh.

"Thrilled … so thrilled. Andrew really wanted a boy, and I just wanted to know. I knew I'd be happy either way." Christine settled back against the examination table. "Oh wow."

"Pretty great feeling, huh?" Alexa moved the wand around just slightly to change the view.

"Yeah." Christine shook her head. "Only one problem."

Startled, Brennan looked at her daughter. "What's the matter?"

"We have no boy names. Like none. Zero."

"You've got plenty of time," Brennan assured her. "We didn't officially finish Adeline's full name until a week before she was born."

"Yeah, that's not the only problem."

"What else?"

Sighing, Christine answered, "I want to shout this from the rooftops. How on earth am I supposed to keep this from Andrew for another four months?"

"Hah," Alexa laughed again. "That's why you got your mom here, sister. You two are going to be thick as thieves waiting for this baby boy to make his appearance."

"Good." Christine gave her mother a happy smile. "Glad you're willing to keep this secret with me."

"I'm glad you're willing to share it with me." Brennan leaned to kiss Christine's cheek. "Congratulations on a son, sweetheart."

* * *

_So you don't think Brennan would call her daughter "sweetheart," do you? Hey, that's OK – you're totally allowed to think that. I'm just operating on the premise that after 25+ years with Booth, some of his more endearing elements (like nicknames for those he loves) might rub off on Brennan. (One can only hope, right?)_

_Special shout out to Matt, who graciously brought to my attention that I had a typo in my last chapter. (Matt doesn't have an account or wasn't logged in, so I'm thanking him publically.) He caught that I had Marianne saying "Booth" when I really meant to type "Seeley." (Duh. Of course Marianne wouldn't call her son "Booth." What was my tired brain thinking?) I tried to correct it, and thought it had updated, but when I went back last week, I noticed it was still there. Oops. It's corrected now. Thanks, Matt! (And while I'm on it, shout out to all my reviewers without accounts. I appreciate you! If you had an account, I'd gladly message you back and answer your questions/respond to your reviews. I make every attempt to respond to each review!)_

_And another shout out to my friends Liz and Ryan, who are the unofficial inspiration for this chapter. They have three girls, and found out they were pregnant again (due last month). Liz wanted to know the sex while Ryan wanted a surprise. Unlike Christine and Andrew, they didn't fight over it - they quickly agreed that Liz would find out, tell her best friend, and they'd keep the secret. Both of them kept quiet! Ryan told me, "She didn't slip once! She even waited for me to yell, 'It's a boy!' in the delivery room before she laughed and said, 'I know!'" Sweetness, huh? See, surprises are a good thing._

_I apologize for the updating delay. Due to a series of extremely unfortunate/comical events (which just continue to feed my angst monster), we are still without Internet here at the house. Join me in hoping/praying/doing your best Internet service rain dance that technician #6 (coming tomorrow) can fix it for good. Reading/reviewing stories and responding to messages is no fun on an iPhone! (And again, I'm mooching off the neighbor's wifi tonight to post. Oops.)_


	22. The Shiner

_This short bit picks up from the end of season 8, so it includes major spoilers. If you haven't watched the season yet, please steer clear._

_Oh, and this one's rated M for Angela's choice of words and … well, you'll just have to for part two for the rest of that rating … _

_Disclaimer: I don't own Bones._

* * *

"Damn you!"

Reeling from the forceful impact of a fist against his cheek, Booth blinked several times as his eyes watered. He shook his head, reeling from the sheer force of the unexpected blow.

"Damn you to _hell_, Seeley Booth!" The shrill, repeated curse came from none other than his partner's best friend.

"Angela, I …"

"I don't want to hear it." The artist briefly hesitated, then hauled back again to slap Booth's check. "You son of a bitch!"

"Angela …"

"Shut up. There are not adequate words in the English language to describe how I feel right now, but I'm going to attempt to tell you anyway." Angela's tone dripped with bitterness as she glared at Booth.

"OK."

"I said _shut up_!" She nearly spat out the words. "You haven't earned the right to talk."

He merely nodded to signal that he was listening and acknowledging Angela's anger. Ever since the broken engagement three weeks ago, Angela had given him the silent treatment, refusing to speak to him even during cases. She was clearly furious, and everyone knew it, and she hadn't yet budged on her vow of silence towards Booth.

But everyone has a breaking point. And there in Booth's office — where Angela had stormed in without any sort of warning — it was immediately apparent that Angela had finally reached hers.

"Booth, what the fuck?" Angela shook her head. "Do you have another brain tumor? It's not every day that Temperance Brennan proposes to you. Do I need to remind you that she's the love of your life? She's always been and always will be? Booth, you are the one constant in her life You are the one person who —with the exception of the whole fake death thing and a couple girlfriend flings here and there — has _always_ been there for her. Do you know what it's like for her to trust someone? You know her — she doesn't trust just anyone. It's taken you years to get this close to her, and now you've utterly ruined it."

"Well, she hasn't moved out."

"And she won't because she loves you." Suddenly, Angela's eyes narrowed. "And did I give you permission to speak?"

He shook his head.

"That's right. _Shut up._" Angela continued. "Honestly, I'm thinking that if you thought you could manage to hide your reason for doing this from me …" she hesitated, and then continued, "I swear, someone put you up to this."

He tried his best not to fidget or let on that Angela was dangerously close to the truth. One wrong move and he knew Pelant would follow through with his deadly promise: _"Dr. Brennan can't know the reason you're turning her down. If you tell her, I'll know. If you ignore me, you'll be responsible for the deaths of five innocent people … I know you could never trade five innocent lives for your own happiness."_

"One day, I'm going to find out why you did this, Booth," Angela promised, jabbing a finger into Booth's chest. "You know I will."

* * *

_Anyone else dying to see Angela deck Booth for his actions? _

_Guess I could end it there, but I've promised a part two. (And hey, it'll have to be soon because it's almost premiere time!) Give me some motivation to help me finish it soon … _


	23. Confession

_This picks up from the chapter before, so if you haven't read that one, please hit the back button. Again, please be advised that it includes end of season 8 spoilers._

_Um … (faint blush) … while this isn't overly explicit, I earned the promised M rating on this one, so if you're underage, adios. This is a new venture for me, so if you're so inclined, I'd love feedback. (But I'd love feedback on any of it.) Thanks to a friend's prompt, I've had this particular idea in my head for a while, and figured it needed to be written before the season 9 premiere. (Just barely made that deadline!)_

_Disclaimer: I don't own Bones._

* * *

Booth's evening followed the hellacious pattern of the rest of his day. It was his turn to pick up Christine from daycare, and upon his arrival there, he found Janna, one of the workers, irritably rocking and swaying his inconsolable, screaming prodigy.

"She's sick," the woman declared, as if Booth couldn't figure this out on his own. "I called Dr. Brennan first, and then tried your office. Neither one of you answered."

"Yeah, I must have already been on my way over here – I came as fast as I could. I'm sorry." Booth had barely reached the doorway before the woman promptly handed Christine over to Booth, who grimaced as he glanced at her stained clothes. "You didn't put her in something else?" he questioned, holding out his free hand for the diaper bag.

"Oh, we did. That's her spare outfit. She puked all over both of them in ten minutes – shirt and pants. Kid's got talent to do that twice." Janna pointed at the diaper bag. "Other outfit's in there, sealed in a Ziploc."

"Thanks …"

"Did I mention she puked all over me, too? Also managed to do that twice." She indicated to a stain on the shoulder of her blouse and a large wet spot on her jeans. "Talent, I tell you."

"Sorry about that."

"Don't bring her in tomorrow."

Booth nodded with an apologetic smile. "Yeah, I figured not."

"You know the sick kid policy …" Janna grimaced as both she and Booth heard Christine let out a telltale gurgle.

"Oh no." Booth grabbed at the open diaper bag for a bib, quickly wiping at Christine's mouth, who, despite having just vomited again all over herself and Booth, was still managing a full-out pitiful wail of "Daaaaaaaaaddddddyyy!"

"24 hours without a fever, 48 hours without throwing up," Janna reminded Booth as she gave Christine a sympathetic pat on the back. "Feel better, sweet girl. No more puking here, OK? See you in a couple of days."

"You got it." Booth gave up trying to keep his shirt semi-clean and held Christine close to his chest, groaning as he felt moisture through his button up shirt. "Come on, baby girl. Time to get you home and cleaned up."

* * *

Upon arriving home, Booth went to unbuckle Christine and discovered another pool of liquid, this time all down her bare chest and on the safety straps of her car seat. He hadn't wanted her to sit soaking in her own sickness for a whole car ride, so he had simply taken off her wet clothes and left her in a clean diaper.

"Oh baby girl," he groaned as he gently took her out of the seat. "Maybe stripping you half naked wasn't such a great idea."

She let out a pitiful whine and put her head on Booth's shoulder, her sweaty, sticky hand clutching at his now-disgusting button up shirt. Clinging to him, Christine held on tightly as Booth removed the car seat and carried it into the house.

"Time to get you clean first, then tackle the car seat." Booth pressed a kiss to the top of Christine's head, her hair matted around her damp temples. "Guess I need to see if you've got a fever." He felt his phone buzz in his pocket, and after dropping the car seat near the laundry room, he pulled it out to glance at a text from Brennan.

"_Got the daycare message, but their online system shows you've picked up Christine. How is she? Stuck at American for another hour, but I will leave if she's ill."_

He texted back as he climbed the stairs with Christine in his arms: _"Definitely a sick kiddo. 4 vomit episodes so far. Don't worry – we'll manage, & it's my turn to be with her anyway. You had her last time she was sick."_

"_Fever?"_

"_I'm checking."_

"_Let me know."_

"_Of course."_

"_Give her baby Tylenol if she's got one."_

"_Will do." _

Booth rummaged around Christine's bedroom and finally found the fancy rapid alert forehead thermometer that Brennan had insisted on purchasing. For once, he was grateful for it – he didn't want to risk triggering Christine's queasy stomach by putting a thermometer in her mouth.

"Oh sweetheart," Booth sighed as he glanced at the 100.6 temperature reading. "Time to try to some medicine."

Christine sniffled and rightly protested some when Booth offered her an oral syringe filled with liquid. Thankfully, she didn't gag, but as he wiped the remnants of the sticky clear medicine off her chest during a quick bath, Booth wondered how much of the medicine actually went down Christine's throat.

He was grateful when she was finally clean and snuggled up sleepily against his bare chest – he'd shed his crusty, soaked shirt while he bathed her – and even more grateful when she fell asleep in his arms just minutes after her bath. He put her down in her bed and watched for a minute, making sure she stayed asleep.

Knowing how foul he was thanks to his daughter, Booth headed for the shower, quickly scrubbing away any evidence of the sickness. He stepped out of the shower and ran his fingers through his damp hair, noticing his haggard expression in the mirror and the bruising around his eye.

_Today had been rough. And Bones wasn't even home yet._

He shook his head, muttering out loud, "What a terrible way to think about things." And he realized if he wasn't careful and didn't get his attitude in check before Brennan got home, he was just going to make things between them worse.

Slipping downstairs with a full basket of dirty clothes from the bedroom, he immediately went to the laundry room to take the cover off the car seat, spraying it down and dumping it in the washer along with the rest of Christine's clothes. He walked into the den and turned on the TV, absentmindedly paying a little attention to sports highlights while he fixed a sandwich and poured himself a glass of scotch. He set out Brennan's wine glass and checked the salad left over from last night to see if there was enough left for her to call it dinner. As he sliced up a few strawberries and an apple, he dumped half of it on his plate and stored the rest in the fridge for Brennan.

He was nursing the scotch and finished with dinner when he heard the front door unlocked and opened. Once again, Brennan hadn't bothered to let him know that she was headed home — not unusual these days, but he had expected her to at least courtesy text him tonight due to Christine's illness.

"Hey Bones," he called out.

"Hi." She stepped into the den and paused for a moment to shed her rain jacket, revealing that she was wearing one of Booth's favorites on her — a chic pencil skirt and sleeveless blouse with her hair pinned halfway up. Diverting from her standard boots or her practical flats, she clicked around in bright red stilettos as she headed to the kitchen. She saw her wine glass out and promptly uncorked the waiting bottle.

"There's salad and some fruit in the fridge."

She didn't acknowledge that she'd heard him, and he hesitated before asking her, "Would you like me to fix you something else?"

She took a healthy sip of the wine, relishing the taste on her tongue, and then shook her head. He should have known — she hadn't accepted a meal from him in two weeks. Despite knowing this, he tried her again. "Bones, you really should eat something."

"I'm not hungry." She eyed him over the large glass, taking another long sip.

"Hard day?" He wondered if he'd ruined his chance of holding a conversation with her, and he was pleasantly surprised when she opened her mouth to answer him.

"Long day." She sighed and rubbed her hand above one eyebrow. "Academia is exhausting."

"Get your interns for next year worked out?"

She shook her head.

"Why?" He checked the clock on the wall, and then looked at her curiously. "That was a really long meeting. Didn't you tell me this was the intern meeting?"

"Logistics. Paperwork. Scholarship funding … take your pick of the issues. Complicated and exhausting." She switched the topic of conversation abruptly, "How's Christine?"

"Amazingly, she's still asleep. Guess we can thank the Tylenol."

"Has her fever increased?"

"I haven't checked since I gave her the medicine."

"I'll check before I go to bed." She stepped closer into the den area, eyeing the sports show that Booth was semi-watching. "Guess I need to call a sitter for tomorrow."

"Max is going to do it." After picking Christine up at daycare, Booth had immediately called his pseudo father-in-law about staying at the house. Always happy to spend time with his granddaughter, even a very under-the-weather granddaughter, Max had readily agreed.

"Oh." She didn't thank him for taking care of the issue. "Good." Moving to sit down in the loveseat, away from Booth on the couch, Brennan clearly noticed the swollen, discolored area near his left eye, but didn't say anything to acknowledge her observation. She didn't look surprised at his shiner, which probably meant Angela had admitted what happened. Booth wondered how that conversation had gone:

"_I took care of Booth for you since you've been way too good to him for three weeks."_

"_You're lucky I didn't kill him. Say the word and I'll do it."_

"_Hey Bren, don't be alarmed when you get home and see Booth's face. I finally decked him for being an asshole and crushing your soul."_

"_Yeah, it was probably that last one," _he thought to himself, bringing the glass of scotch to his lips_._

Breaking the stillness, Brennan rose from her seat and went back into the kitchen. In a moment of unexpected kindness, she reached into the freezer to retrieve something and came back into the den, tossing the item to Booth. "Catch."

Reflexively, Booth held out a hand and intercepted the cold object thrown to him – a bag of peas.

Immediately, he glanced hopefully at Brennan with a small smile. "Remember the last time I had one of these?"

Her eyebrows furrowed. "No."

"The elevator? When we got stuck during the blizzard?"

"Oh." She shrugged casually, taking another sip of wine. "Well, same concept as your bad back. Place it over your zygomatic bone. The cool temperature will soothe the area and help reduce the swelling."

"Thanks, Bones." Booth closed his left eye and gingerly positioned the frozen vegetable bag over part of his face, wincing at the cold contact.

The slightest look of compassion crossed Brennan's face as she watched him. "It looks like it hurts."

"A little bit," he admitted.

"Here, let me." She stood and moved to the couch, then reached for the bag and brushed his face slightly. He tensed as she repositioned the bag over his injury, pressing part of her hand against his face. It was the first physical contact she had initiated in weeks, and _damn it, it startled him._

_What did that say about him? What did it say about them?_

"Aren't you going to tell me what happened?"

He gave a wry smile at her curiosity, but it quickly disappeared as he thought back to his reason for receiving the injury. "I think you know what happened."

She chewed on her bottom lip. "My dad?"

"If it was Max, I wouldn't be able to speak right now. You'd probably be feeding me through a tube for the next two months and I'd need a whole new set of teeth."

Hesitating, she glanced to look him in his good eye. "Angela?"

He nodded affirmatively.

A clap of thunder almost caused Brennan to drop the bag from Booth's face. She jerked against him, causing her to press just slightly too hard into his face. "Oh … Booth, I'm sorry," she apologized, immediately noticing his grimace. "Perhaps you should hold it."

He froze again, realizing that was the first "I'm sorry" she'd uttered to him since he'd broken their engagement.

_Wait. Something to soothe his well-deserved injury, a gentle touch, and an apology all in one night? Was she softening?_

"I heard on the radio that we're expected to lose power tonight. The storm system moving through is quite severe," she remarked, getting up off the couch to go back into the kitchen. "I better find our flashlights."

"There should be one upstairs in the bedroom," he reminded her.

"Yes, but I'd like to lay out the kitchen one as well." She dug through one of the drawers until she found the Mag-Lite to place on the countertop. "Just in case the power is still out in the morning."

"Yeah, good idea." He stood up and stretched, returning his empty glass to the dishwasher in the kitchen.

"I'm going to get ready for bed." She reached to top off her wine glass, finishing off the bottle.

"I'll join you in a few minutes. Going to check the house and set the alarm."

She shrugged and picked up her wine, heading for the stairs.

* * *

As Brennan reentered the bedroom ten minutes later, Booth looked up from his iPad, placing it on the nightstand next to the large scented candle Brennan had lit before going to check on their daughter. "How is she?"

"I thought I accidentally woke her. I opened her door too loudly." Brennan closed their bedroom door behind her, leaving the door just barely cracked. "But she stayed asleep. Fever's 100 even."

"Down a little. That's good."

She nodded as she swallowed several sips of wine, setting her mostly-empty glass down by her side of the bed as she went to work on the buttons on her blouse.

"Bones?"

She glanced over her shoulder, her back still towards him.

"You look nice today." He paused, trying not to make it look like he was hesitating. "I didn't get to see you this morning, else I would have told you then."

Her surprised expression almost hid her slightly pleased look. "Thank you."

"You were up really early."

"Well, I needed to get some work done at the lab. I had hoped it would turn out otherwise, but I knew the university would likely demand all my afternoon and most of the evening." She paused, like she was considering whether to keep talking to him, and then continued. "Thank you for taking Christine in and picking her up. I know it was my turn to take her this morning. I just couldn't manage it with everything today."

He held in the urge to say, "You work too much," and simply nodded with a small smile. "You're welcome. Tired, huh?"

"Yes." She stepped out of her heels, grabbed them, and walked them to the closet, where she shed her skirt and dropped her blouse in the hamper, surprised to see it empty. "You did the laundry?"

"Yeah, we were both running out of underwear," he joked, trying not to make it obvious that he was staring at the minuscule excuse for underwear sitting on her hips, barely covering her. _"No wonder it looked like she wasn't wearing anything under that skirt. Where the hell has that thing been, and when did she buy it?"_

She rolled her eyes as she grabbed a hanger to rehang her skirt for another wear. "Impossible. We have a whole drawer entirely for underwear."

"Laundry has kind of gone by the wayside, Bones." He realized she might see that statement as an attack against her, and he quickly rephrased, "I mean, I've been bad about doing it. Can't remember the last time I did a load."

"We both have," she admitted quietly, stepping out of their closet, shamelessly wearing nothing but her underwear. As she turned her back to Booth to open the chest of drawers for her pajamas, he couldn't help but stare — this was the most skin he'd seen from her in three weeks. Mesmerized, he watched as she bent one hand behind her back, unclasping her bra, while the other hand dug around in the drawer for a shirt. Just as he thought she might turn around, the lights flickered, and they heard the telltale sound of a transformer whining down the street.

"Oh." Brennan inhaled sharply as the bedroom room went black. "Guess I should have grabbed the flashlight …"

Without thinking, Booth sprang out of bed, his hands finding Brennan's waist in seconds. She jumped, partly because of his chilled fingers and partly because of the timely clap of thunder outside the house.

"That probably woke Christine …"

"Shh."

"But …"

"She's out cold. Medicine knocked her out."

"She might …"

"You know she sleeps like a champ during storms."

Brennan knew it was true, and she stopped arguing. She turned in his arms, pressing her warm chest against him. Suddenly, Booth felt like he'd had the breath knocked out of him.

"Bones?"

"Yes?" she whispered back.

"You feel so damn good." He slid his hands up her body, immediately cupping her face as he leaned to kiss her, praying she didn't fight him.

_She didn't resist._ _She hesitated, but she didn't resist._

And suddenly, as the storm spiked, the rain began to dump down in buckets, and the wind picked up outside, Booth had an idea.

It was a completely insane, crazy, incredibly risky, and foolish vagary, but he found that he couldn't get it out of his spinning head. And as soon Brennan began to kiss him back, Booth knew he was running full speed with his straight from the loony bin idea.

He tightened his hold on her and walked both of them toward the bed, allowing her the backs of her knees to hit the mattress. She fell back immediately, pulling him with her to cover her body. He could feel her pulse quickening as he sucked at her throat and collarbone just this side of rough, exactly how he knew she liked it. Sure enough, within seconds, she hissed out a slow "Yes …" and began to run her fingernails ever so slightly down Booth's shoulders and back.

Nipping at her collarbone, Booth had to fight for restraint as Brennan arched up into his body, pressing her core directly against him. In an effort to control his traitorous member, Booth reached to put his hand between them, easily shoving aside the barely there scrap of material with the pads of his fingertips.

He swallowed a groan as Brennan moaned out a harsh, "Oh god … don't stop," and continue to writhe against him.

He _almost_ had her; and if he could get her to come apart, he knew his confession would be safe.

Miraculously, his brain was still working well enough to realize most of what she still had on was lace. Within seconds, he'd managed to rip one side and get her out of it. Her fingers searched for the waistband of his boxers in the dark, and together, they yanked and tugged until he too was free. She uttered another frantic plea and he slid into her, biting his lip to keep quiet as she tensed against him, squeezing him tightly as he began to move.

Barely a minute had gone by before she gave a loud, telltale gasp, and Booth seized his chance as he picked up the speed and pressure. Pressing his lips to Brennan's ear, he quickly murmured, "Pelant made me," his quiet confession covered by her keening cry as she fell apart around him.

Brennan's pleasured cry ended abruptly in shuttering breath, and Booth pulled away from her ear to see a look of shock flashing across her face, barely discernable by the faint light emitting from the candle on the nightstand. Immediately, he realized the danger he'd created for both of them. Hell-bent on preventing impending disaster from her lips, he leaned to cover her mouth with a hard kiss. After a few seconds, still fighting to maintain his composure as she continued to contract and flutter around him, he moved to her neck and then toward her other ear to whisper an earnest, "I'm sorry."

He worked his way kissing back up her neck until he was looking her in the eyes again, staring at an expression he'd never seen her wear until now: an equal mixture of confusion, pleasure, and astonishment. She swallowed and gasped again, then blinked, her gaze changing ever so slightly.

Suddenly, Booth had to fight the urge to fall apart and weep with relief.

_Trust._ For the first time since that horrific night, she stared at him with a devastating look of sincere trust. She understood. She didn't know the particulars, and she didn't have all the pieces put together, but she knew, understood, and_ trusted_. She'd get her answers someday, and until then, she was willing to wait.

As if to prove it to him, she lifted her head off the pillow, placing a gentle but firm kiss on his mouth, coaxing him closer to her as she put one hand around his nape. They both turned, allowing Brennan to take the top, her hands resting firmly on his shoulders.

He felt a tiny bit of moisture fall to his chest and immediately knew she'd shed a few tears, even though he couldn't see them. Hoping the tears were ones of relief, not anger or grief, he couldn't help but bring one hand to her cheek to brush them away. As his thumb stroked across her soft skin, he could feel a slight smile, silently trying to tell him that this is what she wanted as she sighed and urged him on with her rotating hips.

Just like he had done minutes before, she knew exactly what to do to make him come apart. She leaned to crush her breasts against his heated chest, driving herself mercilessly toward his pistoning hips, making him groan as she sucked the spot right below his earlobe and dug into his biceps with her blunt fingernails.

"Booth … I love you."

At her words, he shattered, and she unexpectedly came again just seconds after him, reeling from the sheer force of their whispered confessions. Collapsing onto his chest, Brennan fought to get her breath back along with Booth, who had one hand threaded through her hair and the other stroking down her spine, desperate not to break contact with her. After a moment, she rolled to his side, and he leaned to kiss her lips again. "Love you, too."

* * *

Sex doesn't fix everything, and given their history, no one knew that better than both of them. Yet the next morning, the tension was noticeably less, and while most of it was due to Booth's confession, part of it was definitely due to the fact that they had finally let down their guards and fallen apart for one another.

After his shower, Booth went downstairs to find Brennan positioned on the couch, a sleeping Christine in her arms and an anthropology journal and coffee cup next to her. She greeted him with a tired but sincere smile, and he bent to press a soft kiss to her lips as he sat next to her.

"Morning."

"Good morning."

"How is she?" He reached to stroke Christine's curls gently.

"Still running a fever, but at least she's resting." Brennan looked at Booth's injury, her eyes squinting just slightly as she studied his face. "I fixed up a smaller bag of frozen peas … you should probably ice the area again. And you can take the bag with you to work."

"Thanks. How's it looking?"

"It'll be discolored for a few days," she admitted, "but the swelling should cease soon."

He nodded and rose from the couch, hesitating just slightly before asking, "Would you like for me to make you French toast?"

"Yes." The smile returned to her face. "Thank you."

* * *

_He's cooking for her again, she's thinking about helping his injury, they're saying "thank you" again, and they've kissed good morning. Oh, and sex the night before. Take that, Pelant._

_To elaborate on the prompt, my friend Ali and I were talking about how it's frustrating to think Booth can't come up with a way to tell Brennan the truth without Pelant knowing. (Side note: who knows — we could start season 9 and quickly find out that we're wrong, but I doubt it.) She said Booth needed to take Brennan somewhere secluded and safe, like on top of a mountain or a monitor-free panic room at the FBI. I countered that it could be somewhere really noisy so that the sounds interfered and prevented Pelant from hearing anything. Ali disagreed, and then said, "Wait, like telling someone a secret during loud sex?" Boom. Obviously, I had to run with that idea._

_Thanks to those who asked/messaged for this follow-up. I barely made my deadline, but to make up for it, I made this chapter extra long. (That's worth something, right?)_

_Happy eve of the season 9 premiere! Hope you've got your beverage of choice, chocolate, and Kleenex — or whatever you do to get ready for a premiere._


End file.
